


know that i would gladly be

by jenhyung



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author has issues, Drama, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, Various Cameos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhyung/pseuds/jenhyung
Summary: the Icarus to your certainty.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 36
Kudos: 148





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bergam0t](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergam0t/gifts).



> for [@n_ikuman](https://twitter.com/n_ikuman), for whom i am eternally grateful for – thank you for all your amazing art, and thank you for your kindness and patience! i hope this meets even just a sliver of what you had in mind.
> 
> please check out jiani's amazing [fan merch](https://twitter.com/n_ikuman/status/1329051401889181698) too!
> 
> listen: [sunlight - hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PELeEo33JXs&ab_channel=HozierVEVO) / [work song - hozier](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nH7bjV0Q_44&ab_channel=HozierVEVO) / [perfect places - lorde](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0DjcsK_-HY)
> 
>  **warnings** : emotional ... issues

It is a half-hour to three in the afternoon.

Jung Jaehyun checks his watch–a discontinued silver Patek Philippe gifted to him on his eighteenth birthday–for the fifth time since stepping into the elevator lobby. He fiddles with the hem of his suit jacket, thumbing at the finely woven wool and its rayon stitching.

The elevator arrives before he’s caught. He doesn’t slow down until he’s a block away, taking a sharp left and heading down the sidewalk with renewed spirit. He lets his shoulders drop and his arms fall free, taking in deep breaths of Spring’s fresh air. The warmth curls in his lungs, filling them to replace the putrid smell of stale coffee and lingering nicotine.

Thankfully, Libre’s isn’t too far away. The quaint café hidden in the daunting alleys of Seoul’s haughty city streets has always been Jaehyun’s refuge, and today is no exception. _Seven Seeds_ coffee beans roasted to perfection and homemade brownies with gooey chocolate chunks, Libre’s is the perfect escape.

At the crosswalk, his phone buzzes twice in his pocket.

Ignoring it, he looks ahead instead to the massive park across the street. Sprawling forty-five hectares, Grand Park is the only sight for sore eyes in a city of grey and suits. From lush trees of green to the array of flora lining stone paths, Grand Park is second on Jaehyun’s list of overtly covert hiding spots. It’s often visited by others equally in need of a fifteen-minute getaway from hectic schedules, or by afternoon dog-walkers and their friendly canines.

If they lived in proximity to Grand Park, they sure had the time to be walking their dogs in the middle of a workday.

Jaehyun considers taking a detour when the crosswalk light turns green.

The decision is fruitful. Two German Shepherds in black and brown sidle up to him when a walker notices his valiant staring. She kindly offers to let Jaehyun pet her dogs, assuring him that they’re nothing but friendly. He thanks her softly, going on one knee to meet them at eye-level, not caring that he’s going to get reprimanded for the dirt stains on his pants.

She tells him their names are Danmuji and Kkakdugi, after her husband’s favorite side dishes. Jaehyun comments on their soft fur and admits to always wanting a pet dog himself but never having enough time to care for one. She goes on to agree, sharing that she spends most of her time these days grooming Danmuji and Kkakdugi, or going around her apartment with a Dyson because their fur catches on every nameable surface.

Jaehyun eventually thanks her for her time, bidding goodbye to Danmuji and Kakkdugi, both of whom seem more than satisfied with the attention Jaehyun’s given them. He continues on his way to Libre’s, steps a little lighter than before.

It’s at the second crosswalk that his phone buzzes again.

Jaehyun checks the time–the detour didn’t take too long, but every minute away only increases the chances of his absence going noticed. He reaches to push the crosswalk button twice, hoping he doesn’t get anyone into trouble for sneaking off.

But could they really blame him? An entire day of meetings he’s supposed to sit through–knowing he has yet to earn the place to offer any actual value in them–yet being referred to as some integral piece of this giant, complicated puzzle? That his mere presence amongst men thrice his age is enough to command silence, even when he doesn’t need it, even when he has nothing worth to say?

 _How will you know how to run the company if you don’t spend any time in it?_ His father had sighed, _It’s for your own good._

Jaehyun pushes the button again. The crosswalk light turns green, and he takes longer strides in muted hopes it would make a difference.


	2. in the evening's cool and quiet

Oh Sehun’s speech is short and succinct. He thanks his family and friends, then the sponsors and publicists, lifting his champagne glass of 1959 Dom Perignon and polishing it off. The hall erupts with applause that muffles Sehun’s closing remarks, and he’s whisked off the stage, flashing a charming smile as he goes. The rich orchestral scores of Brahms floods the hall once again, not too loudly over dinner chatter as the crowd returns their attention to a Kobe beef ribeye with tosa joyu or steamed lobster tails with a beurre blanc fondue.

Jaehyun had opted for the Kobe. Knowing Oh Sehun–son of Korea’s wealthiest philanthropic family and a rising gem in the modeling industry–and the numbers he has on speed dial, Sehun probably had these cuts flown in specially from Hyogo, Japan. Jaehyun has always revered Sehun’s penchant for perfection in the highest regard, knowing from experience the hurdles that come with holding a celebration as big as this.

He works his way through dinner quietly, listening to the hum of table talk more than taking part in it. Thankfully, he’s been seated alongside familiar faces, saving him the need to indulge in small talk with other dinner guests. The conversation topic varies, catching one another up on what’s changed since their friend group last sat in Jaehyun’s apartment, drunk off celebratory champagne. It’d been a couple of months ago, during the lull after their graduation from university and before their first official steps were taken into the working world.

Kim Yugyeom’s personal project in the entertainment industry is taking flight, Lee Seokmin’s in the midst of preparing to open for one of the biggest musicals in Seoul, Kim Mingyu’s collaborating with UNIQLO on his new line of graphic t-shirts, and Cha Eunwoo’s wrapping up his first TV series of the year while preparing for his second.

A whirlwind of new ventures.

Jaehyun hears his name. Yugyeom asks if he’s back to working for his father.

Jaehyun doesn’t flinch, “I am.” He wipes his lips on a napkin, faint smudges of red wine staining ivory, “It’s alright, nothing too exciting.”

They don’t pry. Yugyeom comments on the obnoxious number of times Eunwoo’s face has appeared on his television screen and Seokmin groans in agreement. They fall away to discuss the frequency of advertisements featuring Eunwoo–which are bountiful as Korea’s current top celebrity to endorse–and debate the possibilities of Eunwoo running his own daytime talk show. They consider he could rival Ellen.

The topic strays and Jaehyun is grateful for it. He doesn’t particularly enjoy discussing the Jung’s family business and they know that, respecting boundaries wherever Jaehyun placed them. It’s an unspoken rule amongst the five of them; there’s enough talk and thoughts in the circles they run with sons of the rich and daughters of the famous–anything that isn’t ready to be shared doesn’t have to be spoken. Their friendship powers over secrets and lies, and it’s one of the things Jaehyun will always be thankful for.

His attention is caught when Mingyu tugs on his elbow.

They’re talking about an afterparty.

Jaehyun says nothing, takes a sip of his wine.

Parties amongst the modern aristocracy are always a secret. Obnoxiously so, they’re different from the ones flooding front pages of flashy magazines, reprinted and shared a million times over across every media platform. Those were always filled with incriminating details, left out for the vultures to pick apart, tearing any personality limb from limb, and Jaehyun would want no part in that.

There’s always a difference–Jaehyun’s mother loved to say–between the rich and the wealthy; one of them boasts of money that grows on trees and rocks of solid gold in their backyards, of the privilege and luxuries they’ve been served but refuse to acknowledge, of the power they possess but refuse to wield.

As far as _good_ parties go, Jaehyun’s been to a fair share of them himself, dragged along for a night designed to be forgotten. It would be a bald-faced lie if he said he didn’t enjoy them; the music, the friends, the hours away from reality. The fuzzy warmth of alcohol burning his chest after a straight Fireball, the rooms on an axis when he gets to his feet, and maybe the touch of someone that can steal him away for the night.

Jaehyun pretends to consider it, “Who’s hosting?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes.

Jackson Wang lives in a literal kingdom of his own.

After the initial purchase of the secluded plot of land a half-hour away from the city and a year’s worth of renovations, the greatest party ground was born and risen. It’s no doubt that he had succeeded in building a palace to host and entertain, covering the span of an acre with top-notch facilities and unbelievable amenities. From swimming pools and basketball courts, to round-the-clock services and a team of gourmet chefs on-site, the Papillon–the estate was sweetly named after Jackson’s first leap into the music industry–was more than enough to rival the collective Kardashian mansions in Calabasas.

It was also Jackson’s personal vendetta to ensure unrivaled levels of privacy and security, going through great lengths to make it so.

There is only one way in and one way out of the Papillon, accessible only to Jackson Wang’s private fleet of Rolls Royces. A team of dedicated drivers stands behind them, their sole purpose to ensure the safety of arriving and departing guests at the Papillon. The estate is further surrounded by dense, undisturbed forests of evergreen, gated by wired fences hidden amongst the impassably thick first line of defense. It’s patrolled hourly by security details during large events, keeping unwanted reporters and lurking fans away.

Jaehyun has been up to the Papillon several times, knowing Jackson personally through Yugyeom, who has worked with the international celebrity on several occasions. They chatted briefly and Jaehyun was amazed at the carefree, affable way Jackson carried himself, not quite expecting such good nature from the boy that reigned over variety TV. Jaehyun remarked at the incredible design of the Papillon: the exterior a cross of minimalistic and contemporary architecture, its interior filled with a vibrant display of Jackson’s personality manifested in diverse mediums ranging from neon pink art sculptures to a feature wall of every single baseball cap he ever owned.

Jackson had cheerily given him a tour of the main area designated for guests–Jackson himself slept in a separate wing inaccessible to visitors–and introduced Jaehyun to the many features of the Papillon built and furnished purely to host: a pool the length of a field with surrounding huts and deck chairs, a kitchen stocked to the brim with fresh food and limitless alcohol, lounging areas with several gaming consoles and retro arcade machines, and a slew of rooms kept in pristine condition to house overnight guests.

Suffice to say, the Papillon was heaven made to party.

  
  


Yugyeom sighs loudly when they step out of the sleek Rolls Royce.

Jackson had sent four cars to the heart of Gangnam to fetch Oh Sehun’s guests, bringing them away from the bustling city and further into quiet neighborhoods. Where the Papillon rests is a considerable distance from the nearest residential area, saving them from any potential noise pollution complaints when the parties last through nights. Which, to Jaehyun’s knowledge, could honestly last for what feels like forever, for better or worse.

They’re ushered and welcomed by a team of greeters decked out in floral-printed bowling shirts and khaki pants, coupled with multi-colored leis hung around their necks. Piña coladas and freshly squeezed juice are offered on wooden trays decorated with plucked flowers as they’re guided through a path lined with coconut trees, the cobblestone morphing into a sandy beach.

Jaehyun takes a tentative sip of his first drink, listening closely as a particularly tall greeter prattles animatedly about the amazing lengths the Papillon has been through to cater to tonight’s theme. He grandly announces that Jackson had personally prepared every attendee a welcome gift in light of tonight’s luau, gesturing for them to be brought forward.

They are each gifted a luxurious box, matte black with a smooth finishing. _Gucci_ is embossed in gold across the top _,_ unsurprising as one of the many top designer brands scampering to get Jackson Wang on for a collaboration.

Eunwoo hums, opening the box to reveal a peony print silk bowling shirt and a lei of real flowers strung together. Jaehyun picks up the sturdy card atop Eunwoo’s gifts, turning it over to find Jackson’s handwritten _Hope you have fun at the party!_ address, along with a personalized note to Eunwoo, congratulating him on the completion of his latest TV series.

Once they’re left on their own to make the remaining stretch towards the beach, the leis are donned and the excitement continues to bubble. Jaehyun thumbs at the petals around his neck, the smooth touch of bright purple orchids, and he can’t help but think,

_There really is no party like a Jackson Wang party_.

At some point, Jaehyun finds himself drawn towards the row of deck chairs by the pool. The piña colada in his hand is probably his third–or fourth, enough to make scenes fuzzy and the world wobble. Drinks at the Papillon are far from diluted vodka shots and watered-down cocktails, not when Jackson’s personal collection of wines and spirits is basically limitless. 

Jaehyun sighs in relief when his back relaxes against soft cushions, head spinning at the movement; he crosses his ankles and gets himself comfortable, suddenly made aware of how long he’d been standing around, chatting with old friends and making several new ones.

The pool before him is empty, a blown-up pink flamingo and a white unicorn float the only things in it, drifting idly by. The life of the party’s by the beach, where Jackson himself stands behind a raised DJ booth, flanked by two smoke cannons and what certainly is studio-grade floor lights. The dancefloor’s warded with coconut trees and fairy lights strung from one to the other, collecting most in attendance.

He saw no appeal in submerging himself into the sweat-slicked throng of writhing bodies, staying put by the edges despite Mingyu’s insistence in dragging him towards the center of it all. Jaehyun’d managed to slip away only when Mingyu’s attention was taken by the arrival of his boyfriend, skittering off and thankfully releasing Jaehyun from his clutches.

In record time, the piña colada vanishes. The glass is still cold against his chest, the condensation seeping through the thin fabric of the gifted silk bowling shirt. It’s a generous gift, Jaehyun would say, noting that everyone received a different variation–his was of a Hawaiian print–to their shirts. They all slipped their gifts on, as per Jackson’s request, and Jaehyun’s certain he isn’t the only one that thinks the scene across the beach looks cut right out of an actual _Gucci_ commercial.

Bored, Jaehyun turns to envy the night sky.

Away from the city lights, the stars shine bright. The moon is full and enough to rival the sun; Jaehyun wonders if he could spot craters on its surface if he stared hard enough. He does until his eyes begin to water. Reluctantly, he concedes defeat to the little game he’d come up with himself and decides that he _really_ needs another drink if he’s hoping for the night to take a turn.

The bar isn’t too crowded. Jaehyun makes his way over to the makeshift hut of unvarnished wood and straw finishings. It’s very theme-appropriate–the back of the hut lined with bottles of alcohol, two bartenders in silk shirts expertly mixing drinks behind the wooden counter, the bar seats planted with ratty cushions.

Jaehyun claims the spot at the end of the counter, smiling when the bartender promises he’ll be there in a minute.

His attention shifts. There’s a trio of girls by the other end of the counter, chatting in low voices as they wait on their drinks to be made. Jaehyun forgoes eavesdropping and lets his eyes wander away, casting them over to where everyone else has seem to lost their senses to the beat of whatever flew through the sound system. He feels it reverberate in his chest too, the heavy thump of drums and bass, the bleed of words Jaehyun can’t catch.

For a moment, he stops thinking. A momentary pause; the crowd blurs and everything slows. Jaehyun blinks twice, soul returning as quick as it’d left. The alcohol must be hitting him. He sits up and clears his throat, as if he were checking for any punctures in his skin.

He blinks again.

It’s instinct, Jaehyun thinks. His breath catches and something too similar to a dead rat lodges itself into his throat, noticing only then a pair of eyes centered on him. It feels almost like he’s been caught in the act of committing something sacrilegious, sitting alone by the bar, waiting unaccompanied for his fifth drink of the night. The heat from his chest floods to his cheeks, simmering into quiet stings when it reaches his fingertips.

He’s tall, whoever he is. He’s standing right by the bar table where Jaehyun’d been a half-hour ago, drink in hand, the other in his pocket. The first three buttons to his shirt’s unbuttoned–revealing very little from where Jaehyun sits–the bright yellow like sunlight against the murk of gray everything else has fallen into. He’s dressed in a pair of tight khaki shorts, accentuating the blatant display of long legs, statuesque, and stupidly mouthwatering.

A brown strap of leather hangs from his shoulder and across his chest, attached to a silver camera resting against the meager expanse of his exposed skin.

He tilts his head at Jaehyun’s attention, the corner of his lips curling into a wry smile.

Jaehyun doesn’t know where to look.

He turns to the bartender, startling himself at the obvious presence of another stranger yet so close to him, already watching him. The bartender smiles like he’s waiting for a response. Jaehyun hooks his ankles together, refusing to sink any further.

Pushing the empty glass to the barkeep, “A piña colada, please.”

Jaehyun breathes again when the bartender leaves, pulling bottles from around him in preparation. The thud of bottles and crush of ice is nothing to the clanging in Jaehyun’s chest, the tightness wounding around his ribs and wringing the bones dry. The concentric rings in the table warp into wriggles that make Jaehyun’s head spin, speaking to him in words he can’t understand.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ordered another drink.

The piña colada is served, and Jaehyun thanks the barkeep, blushing once more when his voice twists with a croak. He takes a long sip from the metal straw, ice and alcohol a soothing blend down his chest. A third of his drink is gone when Jaehyun decides to glance up, curiosity pulling the reigns.

He’s met with the same smile, faint and almost–reticent. Jaehyun’s heart slams in his throat and nothing can ease the flame. The stranger tilts his head again, an obvious beckon or a mere sign of interest or an appeal to have Jaehyun march over there, he doesn’t know. But he accepts the new flare of warmth spreading across his back, the attention of a stranger lighting flames that haven’t been cared for in weeks. The piña colada is gone before Jaehyun realizes it and the bartender returns with a friendly smile.

Jaehyun’s lips are near numb, “A gin and tonic, please.”

His first step is unsteady and the drink in his hand sloshes around. He stops to takes a big sip, reminding himself that this is absolutely not the time to be tripping over nothing. He has no reason to be tripping over nothing. Jaehyun is not drunk. He’s tipsy and the sand feels like mud under his bare feet, but he is _not_ drunk. The sand is cold. Jaehyun looks up, silently blessing the heavens to find himself not all that far from where he wants to be.

One foot forward. And then the other.

The heavy bass flooding through the speakers has Jaehyun wincing the closer he gets. Bodies bump into him, thrashing around to whatever Jackson’s mixing together, peals of delight and choruses of laughs Jaehyun can’t appreciate. His drink spills a little and he takes a moment to gulp down another mouthful, the harsh bite of gin practically nothing against the heat in his body. There’s barely any tonic.

He’s nudged forward,

and caught.

“You okay?”

Jaehyun grabs onto the arms holding him up, painfully aware that he’s just pulled the most ridiculous move ever known to man. The thought is fleeting, however, replaced by the realization that the distance between them has been diminished to nearly nothing. He composes himself, steady on his feet, noticing sluggishly that his drink is no longer in his hand, buried somewhere in the sand. He looks down to search for it but the motion makes the beach tilt and he’s staggering once more.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jaehyun’s told by honeyed tones, velvet, and lush. It’s different to anything Jaehyun’s ever heard, nothing like Jaehyun’s ever heard, could quite possibly be the only thing he ever wants to hear. He grips the stranger a little harder as he’s huddled away from the center of the dancefloor and onto the edges where there aren’t people ready to knock him right over again.

He’s lost when he tilts his head up to meet a pair of dark brown eyes,

“Are you okay?”

Jaehyun parts his lips, stricken for a second at the sound of nothing. He moves to lean himself against the poor guy’s shoulder, fingers digging tight, screwing his eyes shut to have the floor quit sliding around. He just needs a moment for the wave of giddiness to subside; this isn’t the usual route Jaehyun would take with strangers.

An arm is around his waist, the touch light.

Jaehyun rests his head on the back of his hand, turning to hide his face in the crook of the stranger’s neck, inadvertently brushing his lips against the soft skin there. It’s foul play, Jaehyun realizes slowly, and a thousand arguments zip around the four walls of his mind. He’s ready to stagger his way back to the bar when the touch on his waist turns into a firm hold.

All at once, Jaehyun relaxes, understanding the acceptance. The scent of something earthy subdued by a floral cologne, the comforting weight settled on his hip, the press of his chest against another. He releases their hands to bring his arms around the stranger’s neck, pressing their bodies flush, keeping his face hidden.

This isn’t new to Jaehyun. The care of a stranger meant only to last a night, the searing touch and push of someone he’d never bothered to look twice at, the bitter taste of whiskey on his tongue the morning after. It isn’t something he’d scream from the mountain tops, isn’t something he wishes were printed across tabloids, but anyone who knew Jaehyun would know–this isn’t new.

_This_ , on the other hand, isn’t something Jaehyun’s ever come across. He waits for the hand on his waist to trail under his shirt, waits to be dipped forward and kissed, he waits to be pulled back into the mansion, but it never comes.

And the warmth is very plainly–intoxicating.

Jaehyun keeps his eyes closed, knowing what a scene it is to be simply hugging in a midst of ravaged partygoers. But the touch is undoubtedly affectionate, the warmth like sunlight, melting its way into Jaehyun’s veins, embarrassingly intimate. As if they were star-crossed lovers meeting for what feels like a thousand years, returning home to one another only under the fates of the stars’ alignment.

It must be the rum and gin.

Jaehyun thinks he wants more.

He breaks away, just enough for their eyes to meet. Blinking through his seven drinks, Jaehyun nearly goes cross-eyed, focused on full lips that look too soft to be true. It can’t be true. Jaehyun wants to find out. He licks his lips instinctively, holding on a breath when the movement is followed with rapt attention.

“Johnny,” he’s told suddenly. Johnny stammers, laughing breathlessly, “My name.”

Jaehyun smiles, taken by the innocence. He considers all the times he’s made it through the night without knowing the name of whoever held him, considers when was the last time he was asked his name before the touch of their lips, considers the last time he _wanted_ his name to be known.

It’s been a while.

“Jaehyun,” he says, loud enough over the music.

Johnny smiles at him, that same wry smile he had on minutes ago.

And then they’re kissing. Jaehyun’s sure he’s the one who closes the distance, going on his tiptoes to bring their lips together, but then Johnny’s hands are clamping down on his waist and Jaehyun doesn’t care that he moved first. Jaehyun likes the way Johnny’s holding onto him, and he leans into it, feeling Johnny’s camera dig into his hip albeit painfully. It’s forgotten when Johnny parts his lips; Jaehyun shivers when their tongues brush, too busy melting to be indignant at Johnny’s grin. 

It’s bliss, Jaehyun thinks.

He drags a hand down Johnny’s chest, groaning softly into the kiss, spurred to push forward. Johnny holds them steady, one of his hands sliding to secure Jaehyun by the small of his back. Jaehyun thumbs at the fourth button of Johnny’s shirt, an iridescent shell under his nail. He slips it through the catch, exhaling when his palm presses against Johnny’s bare torso, simply feeling.

Johnny revels under him. Jaehyun forgoes holding onto Johnny’s shoulder, now composed enough to stand on his own. He frees the last button on Johnny’s shirt for both hands to roam Johnny’s chest, caressing smooth planes and lines tracked deep. The touch is delicate, ghosting over heated skin, over dips and contours that have Johnny groaning.

Jaehyun gasps when Johnny pushes a hand into his hair, tugging gently to tilt his head back, kissing down his neck hotly. He drags his lips over the sensitive spot under Jaehyun’s ear, laughing softly when Jaehyun shudders, hands snug around Jaehyun’s waist.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jaehyun recognizes the wildly inappropriate display they’re blatantly parading. His hips are practically glued to Johnny’s–whose shirt is completely unbuttoned now–and he’s not entirely sure he’s capable of holding his voice in if Johnny’s going to keep doing whatever he’s so brilliantly doing.

He squeezes Johnny’s sides, whispers into Johnny’s ear, “Come inside with me?”

Jaehyun leads them through the Papillion with ease. Johnny’s fingers are tangled in his as they pass one of the kitchens and two of the lounging areas, a few partygoers already knocked out across the leather couches. He finds the familiar hall leading to the wing of guest rooms, smiling shortly at a butler who passes them with his head bowed.

They pass a few vacant rooms until Jaehyun picks one at random. It’s sufficiently decorated–as are all rooms in the Papillion–with feature furniture pieces and a bed; a flatscreen television hung above a wooden table that looks like it was carved straight out of an oak tree, a reading chair tucked in the corner with a cushion and a shawl draped over the back, and a bed covered in the luxurious Marriott Signature sheets. Towards the back of the room is another door leading towards an en suite.

Johnny follows him in obediently and Jaehyun honestly can’t take his eyes off the goofy smile the taller has on his face. He’d noticed it too when Johnny was stumbling along earlier, taking in the diverse range of artwork hung along the Papillion’s walls, mouth gaping open at the sight of the extravagant range.

Jaehyun stutters in his plan for a brief moment, wondering if Johnny did want a better look at the art–he wouldn’t blame Johnny, Jackson Wang did own enough prestigious pieces to open his own museum.

The ridiculous thought is rightfully knocked out of him, along with the wind in his gut, because Johnny is crowding over him against the closed door, the glint in his eyes mischievous. Jaehyun grins, pulling Johnny down by open collars to crush their mouths together. He reaches past to lock the door, the _click_ of it unexpectedly satisfying. They kick their shoes off, tumbling together in an effort to leave them out of the way. Jaehyun pulls Johnny’s shirt free from under the camera strap, dropping the shirt to the floor and wasting no time in planting his hands back on Johnny’s bare chest.

Johnny’s fingers are deft and Jaehyun is freed of his shirt in seconds. His hands never drift far from where they’re planted low on Jaehyun’s hips, very much unlike the way Jaehyun’s hands are running all over Johnny, trying to commit whatever he can to memory because oh my god.

Jaehyun arches off the door when Johnny slots a sinuous thigh between his legs, the pressure tenfold with the way Johnny’s kissing him, deliberate and languid. Like he’s taking his time to feel, to _taste_.

“Bed,” Jaehyun croaks, pushing Johnny off him to have them cross the meager distance towards the king-sized bed.

Johnny lets himself be pushed–Jaehyun knows from a single glance that there’s no way he could overthrow Johnny out of sheer strength–and he backpedals until the back of his legs bump into the edge of the mattress. Jaehyun plants his hands on Johnny’s shoulders to have Johnny sit, which he does so ungracefully, then slides himself between Johnny’s thighs.

Jaehyun watches the way Johnny stares at him, the corners of his lips turned up slightly, the rest of his face almost in awe. Even with nothing but the moonlight shining into the room, Johnny’s eyes are strangely clear, crystalline as the moment continues to stretch on. It slows, and Jaehyun feels everything like it’s been amplified and muted a thousand times over–the sound of the party now dulled, the cool breeze wafting through the opened windows, the tangible nothing around them.

Jaehyun swears he sees a fleck of gold in Johnny’s iris.

“Hi.”

Johnny blinks at the sound of his voice, hands returning to Jaehyun’s hips like magnets. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, “Hi.”

Jaehyun doesn’t say more, hands trailing from Johnny’s shoulders to his neck, brushing a finger along Johnny’s jaw, simply admiring. The moonlight cascades along Johnny’s profile, and Jaehyun relents to his drunken stupor to drink it in completely because, hell–when is he ever going to see this face again?

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind it, eyeing Jaehyun as he’s being studied. His hands remain firmly on Jaehyun’s hips, resting gently above the band of Jaehyun’s shorts, never straying.

“Is this okay?” Jaehyun hears himself ask, sounding a little high-strung. He strokes Johnny’s lower lip with the pad of his thumb, “This?”

Johnny nods dazedly.

Jaehyun doesn’t wait to be told twice. He climbs into Johnny’s lap, pleased to find that he fits perfectly, and his eyes flutter shut when Johnny kisses him.

It’s soft and sweet, as if he wasn’t clamoring to have Johnny pressed hard against him two minutes ago. He runs his hands through Johnny’s hair to admire it, thick and dark and perfect to tug on. He gathers fistfuls by the roots and pulls gently, rewarded by the way Johnny groans into his mouth. Jaehyun pins a mental note and leaves it for later, smoothening his palms along Johnny’s scalp and dragging his fingers lazily along Johnny’s shoulders.

He fiddles with the camera strap still crossed over Johnny’s chest.

Jaehyun inhales sharply when Johnny bites lightly on his lip, and he swivels his hips forward in retaliation, heat surging up his chest. Johnny moans lowly, finally reaching down Jaehyun’s thighs to squeeze them once before grabbing his ass and pulling him closer. Jaehyun briefly forgets the concept of words when Johnny’s lips return to his neck, planting wet kisses and playful licks.

“Your–” Jaehyun rolls his hips forward, whimpering when he catches against Johnny. Johnny groans into his collarbone and it reverberates in his chest. Jaehyun plucks at the strap, “Camera.”

Any other night, Jaehyun might’ve cracked a joke or two to let Johnny photograph him, to take a couple of videos he knows he’ll have to worry about in the morning, but not tonight. It’s been too long and Jaehyun would rather the hunk of metal someplace that isn’t in the way of what he wants.

Johnny untangles himself from Jaehyun quickly, navigating the mess of limbs to have his camera set safely on the floor somewhere neither of them can see. Jaehyun doesn’t stop moving, leveling himself with his hands on Johnny’s shoulders, unbothered that it might just be how tonight ends. Johnny, now camera-free, returns to guide Jaehyun by the ass, thrusting up to meet where Jaehyun’s grinding down.

It’s sloppy and inelegant but Jaehyun can’t remember the last time he’s ever wanted someone this bad.

Leaning forward, he pushes Johnny down with his weight, laughing when Johnny scrambles at the sudden shift. He wastes no time in kissing down Johnny’s chest, ignoring his own hard-on to focus on getting Johnny’s pants off and on the ground. He drops to his knees between where Johnny’s feet are still planted on the argyle rug, arms leveraged on Johnny’s thighs as he kisses along the band of Tommy Hilfiger boxer briefs.

Long legs with lean muscles and a faint tan line from what must’ve been a day out at the beach. He tugs the boxer briefs off completely–with some awkward maneuvering from Johnny’s long legs–tossing it over his shoulder and watching Johnny’s eyes track the movement.

Belatedly, “Are you clean?”

Johnny nods jerkily, one hand twisted in the sheets, the other hesitant on Jaehyun’s wrist.

Jaehyun kisses the tip, “Good.”

Johnny doesn’t make too much noise, Jaehyun notes, just the sharp breaths he takes or the quiet whimper in the back of his throat. It’s liberating, on some level, having Johnny writhe under him, open and vulnerable and wanting. Jaehyun hums to catch Johnny’s attention, running his tongue along the sides and the tip, grinning when Johnny jerks his head to the side, cheek and ear a pretty pink.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Johnny groans, releasing the sheet to sink his fingers into Jaehyun’s hair. His eyes are positively blown when Jaehyun moans loudly, leaning into Johnny’s touch, “God.”

Jaehyun preens at Johnny’s heavy breaths, his strained whimpers, the way his bottom lip is bitten to a bright red, caught between his teeth. Distantly, Jaehyun thinks about how big and solid Johnny’s thighs are under his hands, and there’s an _ache_ in him that wants them cradling his cheeks. The heat coils in Jaehyun’s abdomen, reminding him swiftly of his own want pressing hard against the zip of his pants.

He releases Johnny to take a breath, the taste lingering on the insides of his cheeks. His hand releases the grip he’d fastened on Johnny’s hip, moving to unzip his own pants, but Johnny is quick and Jaehyun is hauled up, their lips crashing together in a messy kiss.

Jaehyun finds himself on his back not seconds later, head on a pillow as Johnny hovers over him now, hastily getting rid of Jaehyun’s pants. He glances when they hit the floor somewhere in the dark, hearing his phone clank against hardwood, but then Johnny’s hands are on his thighs and Jaehyun stops thinking.

Johnny looms over him, trailing his fingers along where Jaehyun’s thighs are draped over his, deliberately avoiding Jaehyun’s advances to be touched. Jaehyun huffs, and it does nothing but make Johnny smile, fingers insistently tracing along Jaehyun’s thighs and torso, playfully along the delicate lines that has Jaehyun itching for more.

He reaches for Johnny and yanks him down to be kissed, thrusting his hips up for friction– _anything_ –against Johnny’s stomach. He moans when Johnny draws close to the base, clutching onto Johnny tight and twisting his hips in valiant effort.

“You’re teasing me,” Jaehyun accuses, biting on Johnny’s lip. He licks it to soften the punishment, “That isn’t fair.”

“Sorry,” Johnny grins, sounding nothing near apologetic. He slides closer, nosing along Jaehyun’s neck and jaw, leaving kisses as he goes, “But you did tease me all night.”

“All night?” Jaehyun hooks his ankles behind Johnny’s back and levels his voice, “What did I just have in my mouth?”

Johnny laughs, full and spellbinding. It’s angelic, otherworldly, and completely inappropriate to hear during a one-night stand. He kisses Jaehyun languidly in response and takes Jaehyun in his hand, large and warm and tight. Jaehyun exhales at the touch, letting Johnny’s tongue slide against his, the lewd sounds of it loud in his ears. He lets Johnny work him until his hips are jerking up into Johnny’s hand, and he knows that he isn’t going to last much longer.

On cue, Johnny murmurs into his shoulder, “Do you have anything?”

Jaehyun pulls away in favor of answering, stretching over to the bedside table and yanking the drawer open. He fishes around until he manages to grab an unopened travel-sized bottle of lube and a condom. He wriggles back under Johnny, offering them up to an expression that crossed disbelief and amusement.

“Are those yours?”

“No.” Jaehyun gets to peeling the plastic wrap off the lube, “They’re complimentary.”

Johnny frowns, “Complimentary.”

Jaehyun pauses, confused by Johnny’s confusion. He isn’t used to much talking on nights like these, but Johnny doesn’t relent and his hand is still moving and Jaehyun would very much like to keep other things moving along so he nods, “Yes. Complimentary.”

“I thought this was someone’s house.”

“It is.”

“I see. And you–come here often?”

Jaehyun shivers when Johnny slides a thumb over the slit, incredulous at the fact that Johnny somehow expects him to hold a regular conversation like this. Some part of his brain is warning him that Johnny’s bewilderment over the room and _amenities_ available at the Papillon should be a red flag somewhere out there but Jaehyun ignores it.

No talking, Jaehyun’s used to no talking.

He frees the lube and holds it out, “I do. Do you want to or shall I?”

Johnny takes the bottle and kisses him deeply, giving Jaehyun a few more pumps before settling back on his haunches. Jaehyun manages to see Johnny squeeze a generous amount on his fingers before he’s flipping himself around to lie flat on his tummy, knees bent slightly under him. Johnny parks himself close behind, a reassuring hand on Jaehyun’s hip, thumb stroking the bone lightly.

Jaehyun grapples for a pillow and hugs it to his chest.

The first finger breaches easily. Jaehyun still tenses, buries his face into the pillow and groans. The stretch of two bites but Jaehyun thinks nothing of it, wondering instead how Johnny must be watching him, how the heat all over him is nothing but the result of Johnny’s gaze. Jaehyun moans as Johnny searches, hips grinding down against the sheets subconsciously, eager for more.

When Jaehyun sees a flash of white, the sound ripped from his throat is savage. His face is burning, hearing Johnny’s unsteady breaths behind him, and Jaehyun stuffs a corner of the pillow into his mouth in an effort to muffle himself. Johnny shifts, free hand running along Jaehyun’s back, the other twisting in Jaehyun, caressing.

Jaehyun doesn’t register it until the condom is in his hand, trembling as tears along the jagged edges of the hot pink foil. Johnny gets the hint, pulling his fingers free slowly and inching away; the loss is sickening and Jaehyun is rising to his knees, reaching behind him until he manages to find Johnny, hot and heavy in his hand.

“Oh my god,” Johnny whispers. Together, they roll the condom on, Jaehyun undoubtedly touching and exploring more than helping. Johnny moves where Jaehyun wants him to, chest pressed to Jaehyun’s back, hand over where Jaehyun strokes him, where Jaehyun presses the head to his entrance, waiting, wanting, “Oh my–”

“Johnny,” he whispers, ignoring the desperation in his voice. His eyes are screwed shut, afraid that the sight of Johnny’s hands on his body too much for him to handle.

It’s been a while since he’s been held like this.

“ _Johnny_ ,” Jaehyun demands, something between agony and belligerence. He presses his cheek to Johnny’s, settling on hovering over Johnny’s lap. Breathlessly, “Go on.”

Jaehyun arches, taut as a bow when Johnny guides him down, fingers bruising Johnny’s hips as he goes. He chews on his lower lip but the tiny noises still break free, chest heaving with every inch they cover together. Johnny kisses his temple softly, holds steady until they could move no more.

“Gorgeous,” Johnny mumbles, hands trailing down Jaehyun’s chest and thighs, admiring in a way that has Jaehyun weak. The words have Jaehyun falling apart, knees digging hard into the mattress as he spreads himself open, resting his head back against Johnny’s shoulder to catch his breath, to let Johnny’s hands run whenever they want.

Johnny’s hands start to wander, slow and featherlight, leaving gentle caresses down Jaehyun’s thighs, drawing circles close and closer. His hands work miracles down Jaehyun’s sides, over Jaehyun’s inner thighs, over the bone of Jaehyun’s ankles. Jaehyun feels his resolve shake when Johnny’s lips make their appearance, the heat in his chest rioting for freedom. Johnny leaves butterfly kisses along Jaehyun’s shoulders, breath flaring across Jaehyun’s nape as he goes. Jaehyun relaxes, releasing a hand to reach blindly behind him for Johnny’s nape, needing to touch.

It’s so intensely intimate, it has been since they’d locked eyes. Jaehyun preens under Johnny’s attention, under the attention he didn’t know he so badly wanted. He moves on his own, moans when Johnny does too, wrecked by the possession curling in his gut, by the hunger dying to consume him. Johnny’s fingers work magic along his inner thighs and Jaehyun regrets taking a peek, the sight of Johnny’s hands dripped in moonlight, the way they move along his pale skin, delicate.

Johnny is gasping when Jaehyun hastens, finding rhythm. Jaehyun can’t stop the grin that breaks free when Johnny seizes him roughly by the hips, meeting Jaehyun with sharp thrusts; it’s the first he’s treated Jaehyun with anything other than perfect chivalry and it makes Jaehyun tingle with unbridled _joy_ , thinking Johnny to desire him so desperately.

Jaehyun’s lungs burn and his legs start to shake. He grapples for Johnny’s hands and holds them tightly in his, grounding himself to something other than Johnny’s teeth scraping along his shoulder. They tumble forward when Jaehyun decides to let Johnny take the reins, knees sinking deep into the mattress once more. Johnny plants their hands on either sides of Jaehyun’s head, fingers entangled.

“ _Oh,”_ Jaehyun cries, winded when Johnny plows into him–hard and fast.

Johnny is curved over him, kissing what he can reach, breaths short. Jaehyun can’t see him, barely a scant blur in his peripheral, and he blindly wishes he were on his back instead. But the notion lasts less than a second because Johnny so promptly fucks it out of his mind, replacing any thought with gurgled moans and nothing else.

“Oh my god,” Johnny is gasping, “You feel–you feel _so_ –”

Jaehyun hears himself sob when Johnny’s brushes his prostate, his pleas inarticulate and obscure even to himself. And Johnny knows better than Jaehyun does, rhythm and target immaculate. The build is excruciating and Jaehyun comes first, body shuddering with wrecking pulses, legs giving way instantaneously.

Johnny kisses his neck and his cheek, stilling in his movement, whispering sweet words even as Jaehyun courses through aftershocks. He nuzzles at Jaehyun’s hairline, breathing in Jaehyun’s exhales, body a comforting weight against Jaehyun, the pressure calming. The kisses are light and chaste, covering every inch Johnny can mark with nothing.

Jaehyun shifts to kiss the back of Johnny’s hand where it’s still tied to his own, biting on his lip when Johnny moves too, hard and buried deep in Jaehyun.

Jaehyun pushes his knees up and rocks back gently, kissing Johnny’s hand and closing his eyes. Johnny finishes quick, biting into Jaehyun’s shoulder, groaning long and low, rumbling against Jaehyun. Jaehyun moans blissfully, the rubber thin enough for him to feel Johnny fill the condom, warmth nothing like it.

Johnny relaxes with a quiet exhale, breaths evening out as he lowers himself again atop Jaehyun, the comforting touch intoxicating for them both. He rolls out and off Jaehyun slowly, already in a smile when Jaehyun chases after him for their lips to meet. Johnny kisses him deeply, hands cradling Jaehyun’s cheeks, warm and eager. Jaehyun lets himself be enchanted, the fire in him satiated but still alive, ebbing away deliciously.

Johnny returns when he discards the dirty washcloth. Jaehyun is already burrowed comfortably under the comforter, eyes tracking Johnny as he crosses the room stark naked, grinning slyly at the blatant attention Jaehyun can’t help but give him. When he draws close, Jaehyun lifts the comforter and Johnny goes, crawling towards the middle until their lips meet in a kiss.

Jaehyun curls himself around Johnny, tangling their legs together and throwing an arm over Johnny’s side, sliding his hand up to fiddle with Johnny’s hair. Johnny does the same, his right hand moving up to brush the hair out of Jaehyun’s eyes, thumb brushing against the high of Jaehyun’s cheek.

Jaehyun opens his eyes when Johnny pulls away. Their chests remain flushed, and the distance is more than enough to have Jaehyun absorbed in Johnny’s eyes once more.

His cheeks warm when Johnny makes no intention to look away, “You’re staring at me.”

“I am.”

Jaehyun focuses on that gold fleck in Johnny’s eye, “You were staring at me earlier too.”

“So were you.”

“I was just,” Jaehyun pulls his brows together, “looking around.”

Johnny grins. He dips forward to kiss Jaehyun sweetly, then he’s too far again. After a moment’s pause, Johnny licks his lips, “You’re beautiful.”

_God._ Jaehyun turns his face slightly towards the pillow, hiding as much as he can, “That’s embarrassing.”

“Quite,” Johnny agrees, with a timid laugh that makes Jaehyun retreat from his futile attempt at hiding. His eyes move slowly down Jaehyun’s features, lingering on his lips, “I can’t help it. You caught my eye.”

The line is bad–oh _so_ terribly horrible–but it makes Jaehyun leap over the stars, “Well, I’m glad I did then.”

Sleep is easy.

The quiet is comfortable and there’s no need for words. Johnny is big and warm and perfect to snuggle up against. He plays with Jaehyun’s hair and kisses Jaehyun’s cheeks and nose and lips, he whispers sweet nothings and smiles when Jaehyun inches close, breathing Johnny in.

Jaehyun forgets the night and thinks only of Johnny.

Jaehyun wakes alone.

The room looks different in the day, different with golden streaks painting the walls, painting the sheets alabaster beside him, ruffled and empty. Jaehyun takes a moment to understand it, to remember last night as it returns in broken clips like it were played on an antiquated movie projector. It’s not as clear as he liked it to be, but he remembers everything.

Johnny’s voice, Johnny’s hands, Johnny’s lips.

Johnny.

Jaehyun slides his hand over where Johnny had been beside him last night, the indent he’d left still lukewarm. The window ushers sunlight in, and Jaehyun longs for something other than soft sheets between his fingers. He lets himself miss Johnny, knowing the stages of a one-night stand. He lies motionless, pining after someone he’d known for less than a day, allowing his heart to do what it has to.

The comfort isn’t supposed to last; he lets himself grieve.

Eventually, Jaehyun surrenders. He props himself up onto his elbows to try and survey the room, to examine the wreckage or carnage they caused, but his back protests the movement, butchering his resolve and forcing him back down. 

“I’m old,” Jaehyun groans, screwing his eyes shut.

Twenty-four is not old, he knows, but it’s still a testament to his age to be sore all over after a night out. He takes a deep breath in, then out, following the movement of his chest. A wave of embarrassment disrupts his effort to relax when he remembers exactly where Johnny’s hands had been, strong and amazingly sure on his hips, running down his chest, gripping his thighs, thumbs pressing so close to–

Jaehyun inhales sharply.

_Alright._

He looks to the ceiling, the intricate design along the cornices unique to the Papillion. There’s been a bit of time since he’s found himself staring at the elegant details, reminiscing of the last time he’d been here with another who’d left even before he could succumb to slumber. The time before that was equally forgettable.

Jaehyun sits up, determined to shake the feeling off, whatever it is. He looks around the room properly now, expecting to find his clothes strewn across hardwood floors, but they’re not. There’s a little jump in his chest when he sees them folded neatly on the reading chair. Not the bowling shirt that was gifted but the clothes he’d arrived in, the ones he’d handed to the ushers to be kept safe over the course of the party.

Jaehyun blinks.

This is new.

Dismissing it to good manners, Jaehyun steers the thought away. He stretches his hands above his head and the comforter pools at his waist. It’s comical, almost, the way a breath is strangled in his throat when he looks down and notices a hickey left just above his hip bone, faint but very clearly _there_. Jaehyun touches it hesitantly, as if it were his first encounter with a mark like this. He grazes it with his thumb, wondering when exactly had Johnny left one on him last night.

The door is pushed open.

Jaehyun snatches the comforter up to cover himself, head snapping up so quick he’s sure he’d pulled something in his neck. Surprise is swiftly morphed into mortification when Jaehyun comprehends that it’s Johnny standing by the door. He clutches the comforter tightly, failing to remember that Johnny has already seen him without a stitch on.

_What?_ Jaehyun malfunctions, _What?_

“Good morning,” Johnny says, shutting the door behind him and venturing further into the room. He’s already dressed in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows, and a pair of black skinny jeans hugging his legs snugly. His camera is looped around his neck. He walks over to the reading chair and picks up Jaehyun’s clothes, smiling when he approaches the bed, “You have really cute bed hair.”

Jaehyun moves too fast, patting his hair down hastily.

“It’s cute,” Johnny reassures him. He sets Jaehyun’s clothes down by the foot of the bed, “I hope you don’t mind–I asked for them to bring your clothes along with mine since I was already up.”

Jaehyun’s mouth is dry, “Not at all. Thank you, you really–didn’t have to.”

Johnny shrugs, “It’s no biggie.” He stands, smile unbelievably wider than before, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Thanks.”

Johnny flashes him another smile then leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

Jaehyun doesn’t move for a long time. His mind is stationary, unable to process the last sixty seconds, unable to discern the proper emotion and response he’s supposed to have. Never, never, _never_ has a one-night stand last as long as this has, and that’s already saying something. Jaehyun’s had conquests that went for rounds in the mornings and he would be more than pleased to be taken by Johnny again, but–that doesn’t seem likely with how the morning’s turning out. 

There was never _talking_ the morning after.

At least, not like this.

Jaehyun changes into his clothes posthaste, fumbling his way through brushing his teeth and washing his face with the gratis skincare set from Sulwhasoo. Finding his phone on the nightstand, he goes through his notifications briefly, noting a few texts from Yugyeom and a missed call from Eunwoo. He sends the group chat a quick message, apologizing for disappearing without a warning and assuring that he’s fine. The replies are immediate, but Jaehyun locks his phone, leaving it for later.

He paces the room awkwardly, turning his phone over and over in his hands, wondering if Johnny is still on the other side of the door. It’s weird, Jaehyun thinks, it’s weird, Jaehyun decides. There’s no reason for Johnny to be waiting for him, not after a single night together. Last night was amazing but this is–this is–

Jaehyun doesn’t know what this is.

Jaehyun scoops his oversized blazer up and shrugs it on, tugging anxiously on the sleeves. He rolls them up twice, until they’re slightly above his wrists. He shoves his sneakers on, blushing again when he remembers how Johnny had pushed him up against the door and kissed him until he forgot his name.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, then opens the door.

Johnny is standing a couple of feet away, admiring one of the larger art pieces decorating the wide hallway. His chin is tipped upwards slightly, engrossed in the coarse canvas of earthy tones. He notices when Jaehyun emerges from the room, beaming when they lock eyes again. He strides over to where Jaehyun’s legs have stopped working, and Jaehyun refuses the instinct to step away.

“Good morning,” Jaehyun says first. He squares his shoulders, forcing himself to recall every single etiquette class he was made to attend through his teenage years, holding himself with measured confidence, “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to wait around for me.”

“I wanted to,” Johnny says easily. He pockets his hands, standing tall before Jaehyun, “Unless you would prefer if I didn’t?”

Jaehyun feels his jaw drop and he knows the incredulity is evident in his expression. First of all, he _just_ woke up. And second of all, is he really supposed to be able to think when Johnny is standing so close? When Johnny is searching his eyes like he expects to find an answer in them? When Johnny is looking exceptionally striking, outstandingly flawless in ordinary lighting and last night’s clothes?

“I don’t mind it,” Jaehyun hears himself saying, which is incredibly false. And simultaneously the truth. Jaehyun doesn’t want to figure that out right now.

The warmth from last night has vanished, hasn’t it?

Johnny doesn’t seem to struggle to bask in delight, “I don’t mind it either.” He tilts his head to the side, “I was actually wondering if you knew any places for good coffee.”

“Coffee?” Jaehyun echoes.

“Coffee.”

“With you?”

“With me,” Johnny affirms. He follows when Jaehyun moves to lead them down the hall, suddenly itching to move–or to get away.

_From what?_

Johnny reiterates, “I was wondering, I mean.”

Jaehyun picks at the hem of his sleeve, silent for a beat too long.

“Or I could stop wondering,” Johnny says. “That’s fine too.”

Jaehyun stops at the top of the stairs leading down to the main foyer. Johnny is two steps below him, not at all rushing, not at all pushing, just–smiling, like he has been since Jaehyun first saw him, and it’s genuine and sweet and it had been perfect but now–

“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun says, withering inwardly at his own hesitance. Johnny seems great; he was great in bed, he was great before bed, and he was great after bed.

Great, great, _great_.

And it’s weird.

And awkward.

Very much so.

Jaehyun clasps his hands together and it echoes. “I don’t do this very often.”

Johnny is kind, “That’s okay, I don’t either.”

Jaehyun understands with a sinking feeling that they’re not on the same page here.

“It’s okay, you know?” Johnny laughs, soft but full and clear. He tilts his head to the side, hair falling over his eyes, “I won’t wonder, Jaehyun.”

His name on Johnny’s lips has his insides twisting.

“I _am_ new in town though,” Johnny goes on. He fishes for his wallet and pulls out a name card, the design sleek and the paper sturdy. He holds it out for Jaehyun, “If you ever wanted to think of a place with good coffee.”

Jaehyun moves robotically, accepting the name card. Johnny doesn’t say goodbye. He simply flashes Jaehyun another smile, then turns on his heel to hop down the stairs, disappearing into one of the many wings of the Papillon.

Everything built and taken apart before Jaehyun could even decide if he wanted to understand it.

It’s only when a butler passes by that Jaehyun regains his senses. He flips the name card around; it’s of a minimalistic design, a creamy white with the lettering embossed in black. It details Johnny’s name– _Johnny Suh_ , Jaehyun whispers it a few times to himself, turning the name around and around–and his phone number alongside his email address.

“Johnny Suh,” Jaehyun mumbles. He shakes his head as he slots Johnny’s name card into his back pocket.

And that, Jaehyun thinks, is it.


	3. interlude i

Jaehyun was four when he first started piano lessons. He didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t particularly excited whenever Madam Lee would come around with the same old sheet music, smelling like pruned cabbages and elderflower incense. She was a good teacher, strict and observant, always fixing Jaehyun’s posture with a wooden ruler, always tapping her foot to the metronome. And while Madam Lee did a great job sweeping Jaehyun through Liszt and Elgar, the real reason he sat through those sessions was the fact that his mother loved hearing him play.

She loved having Jaehyun parked in front of the Steinway Classic Grand in their reading room, settling herself comfortably on the olive lounge chair beside him, watching his fingers dance across the keys. She would close her eyes and tip her head towards the flutter of notes, the blend of bright harmonics, and her lips would lift in the slightest, lost in the works of Sakamoto and Hisaishi.

The smile on his mother’s face was worth the hours of grueling practices.

Jaehyun was ten when he picked up tennis. He didn’t like it all that much either, preferring team sports like basketball or soccer, favoring open fields and the wind on his cheeks. There wasn’t a chance for him to share his competitive drive with Coach Chang, a retired tennis player that had represented Korea in the 2000 Summer Olympics. She was fast, much faster than Jaehyun even at the age of forty, and her serves were invincible. He didn’t stand a chance against her, and the losses were as frustrating as it was expected.

But Jaehyun’s mother played tennis too and she had gushed about the thrills of having a son that could play alongside her. Jaehyun couldn’t take that away from her, not when he had no siblings to fill the space he’d leave. She joined them during Jaehyun’s training, kind and encouraging whenever Jaehyun missed a serve or a volley. There was no reason for Jaehyun to quit, not when it made his mother happy, not when he was decent at it, learning to take each loss with stride.

Jaehyun was fifteen when he first visited the company. Even then, he drew stares. The Burberry suit on his skin prickled and itched as Miss Kim–his father’s personal secretary–gave him a tour of The Jungs Headquarters, or more commonly known as JHQ, the building that houses the Jung Conglomerate’s main divisions; there are various departments spanning across fifty-two floors, rows and rows of cubicles home to over a hundred employees, all of whom extremely aware of Jaehyun’s presence and identity.

His father had wanted Jaehyun to spend the summer working in the office, he wanted Jaehyun to be a part of the Jung Conglomerate, wanted Jaehyun to start learning, to know the company inside out. Jaehyun was destined to become heir to the multi-billion dollar company; there was no time to waste.

Miss Kim always had work for Jaehyun whenever he came around. It started with menial tasks, like collecting coffee orders and going on lunch runs. At the time, the employees were undoubtedly awkward around Jaehyun, hesitance evident on their expressions whenever Jaehyun flitted from office to office, noting down afternoon coffee orders on a little notepad. Jaehyun made an effort not to let it bother him, working hard at whatever Miss Kim entrusted him with. He knew he’d be watched, his every action–his every intention, emotion, reaction.

Jaehyun went on to shadow managers, to familiarize himself with the many companies under the Jung Conglomerate, to understand the workings of the enormous organization his great-grandfather had built from the ground up.

His father was proud and his mother was happy. Jaehyun didn’t think to question, didn’t think to do anything different than to live out the perfect life and future that was so kindly given to him. There is nothing else to think of; there is only room for gratefulness and acceptance, to do what he’s meant to do, to do as he’s told to do, to make his parents proud, to make the people around him proud.

It is fine. There is only this.

Jaehyun knows only this.


	4. who would trade the hum of night

“Is there anything else I can–uh, help you with, Mr. Jung?”

Jaehyun shrugs his suit jacket on, hearing his newly assigned PA Lee follow him out of the office, “No, I don’t think so.”

“And–uhm, what about tomorrow’s brunch with the–uh, board of directors? Will you be attending in your father’s absence?”

Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair. His father’s been purposefully avoiding work duties over the past month to have Jaehyun be given the opportunity to experience them, to be personally involved with the company. Sitting in meetings were no longer the norm; President Jung has been directing Jaehyun towards cultivating personal relationships with the other senior board members, rather than merely having the title of a president’s son.

It didn’t take Jaehyun long to make sense of his father’s plans.

The President wants to retire.

“Is he not going to be there?”

“He and Madam Jung are taking a–uhm–uh, golfing trip over the weekend.”

“Right,” Jaehyun hears the tightness in his voice, feels it in his chest. It needs to go away. He clears his throat, “Alright, I’ll be there.”

“Okay. And uh, Mr. Jung, what about–”

“You don’t have to call me that, Jeno.” Jaehyun fiddles with his watch, “Jaehyun is fine.”

Lee Jeno’s eyes nearly rolls off his head. He’s been with Jaehyun for a while now, but has never once let up on formalities, “I–wha–uh–”

“My name,” Jaehyun leads them out to the elevator lobby. He pushes the button once, turning to nod at Jeno, who’s about as pale as the marbled walls behind him, “Just Jaehyun is fine.”

“Right, yes, right.” Jeno fumbles with the stack of folders in his arms, stuttering as he goes, “And, uh–Jaehyun, sir, should I have the–the car be brought around?”

“No, thank you. I’ll be taking the metro.”

“The _metro_ –”

The elevator arrives smoothly to the fifty-second floor, “Yes, the metro.”

Jaehyun steps into the elevator before he’s plummeted with questions, almost guilty when he sees the remaining color drain from Jeno’s face. He knows it’s his mother’s doing, trying to protect Jaehyun wherever he went–going so far as to assign an intern to him in hopes of receiving day-to-day reports on his well-being–but it’s the _metro_. There’s so much Jaehyun has kept to over the years and so much more he’ll have to in the future, surely he can take the metro whenever he wanted.

And hopefully, the trip would give him enough time to unravel the knot in his chest.

“But _sir_ –”

Jaehyun smiles apologetically as the lift doors slide shut.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes but stretches his arms out anyway, stepping into Lee Taeyong’s arms for a very warm hug. Taeyong’s hugs are always snug and homey, the way he tucks his face into Jaehyun’s shoulder and breathes in deep, a hand coming round to cradle Jaehyun’s nape, stroking it once.

“Sorry I’m late, hyung.”

“You’ve been skipping meals, haven’t you? You’ve gotten too skinny,” Taeyong ignores him, patting at Jaehyun’s side and inappropriately running his hands over Jaehyun’s ribs. His eyes are narrowed when Jaehyun pulls away, “You’ve been working too hard.”

“That’s my line.” Jaehyun circles the table to take his seat across Taeyong, who settles back in his own, laying the linen napkin over his lap, “I’ve been seeing posters for your exhibitions everywhere.”

Lee Taeyong, one of the world’s most renowned contemporary artists and fortunately, best friend to Jaehyun since they were mere toddlers. The Jung and Lee are close family friends, going way back to when their fathers were toddlers. Jaehyun had grown up with Taeyong–and his older sister, Taejin–and took it upon himself to declare that he held a place with the Lee Siblings. While Taejin chose to pursue a career in Law that took her to Yale, Taeyong built a name for himself in the world of contemporary art; through blends of diverse mediums and his signature art style to express the things he held close to heart.

Taeyong waves a thin hand dismissively, “They’re just showings the gallery’s forcing me to attend. They don’t even let me in the studio to work anymore.”

“Well,” Jaehyun picks the menu up, “you did just finish that extensive collection you’d worked on for over a year now.” A mushroom risotto with truffle oil is the first on the list, “I think you deserve some time admiring the people that admire your work.”

“Bah,” Taeyong huffs. “You’re just saying that because you have to.”

Jaehyun chews on the inside of his cheek, holding back a grin. Taeyong signals for a waiter to come over; he takes their orders, fills their wine glasses with a Penfolds Grange 1951, and leaves after Taeyong tries a sip and approves the choice from the evening’s sommelier.

“How are things at the company?”

Taeyong never bothered beating around the bush. Jaehyun reaches for the bread basket to busy his hands, ignoring the pathetic way they trembled, “Fine. Attending a brunch dad can’t make tomorrow.”

“As acting president?”

“As a seat filler,” Jaehyun says. A waiter comes by with a dish of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and Jaehyun thanks her quietly. He breaks a bit off the slice of French bread, “I don’t think it’s a work-related event.”

“Who with?”

“The Board.”

Taeyong swirls the red wine around his glass, “That sounds like a very president-y event.”

“President-y.”

“Yes,” Taeyong takes a sip. He smacks his lips lightly and sets the glass down, “What did Aunt Jung say about this?”

“I don’t know.” Jaehyun dips the bread in oil and vinegar, “Considering how they like to conspire against me, she’s probably in on it too.”

“She does want Uncle Jung to retire early.”

The bread is acid in his mouth, burning holes as he swallows roughly. Jaehyun physically sickens at the thought of his father retiring, leaving him to direct the thousands under him, the thousands with spouses and children, all under Jaehyun’s control, affect by his every word, his every thought, his every _breath_ –

Jaehyun bites into the bread, sinking his teeth in it for a second before clearing his throat.

“What about you, hyung? Are you seriously not working on anything new?”

Taeyong knows, “You’re evading.”

“Please?”

“Since you so surprisingly asked,” Taeyong deadpans, “I actually am working on a small project outside the gallery.”

Jaehyun smiles sheepishly, but accepts the out. The relief is pleasant, despite the looming shadow attached to it, “A project?”

“Yeah.” Taeyong picks his glass up by the stem, speaks haltingly, “A collaboration of some sort with an artist I’d–recently reconnected with.”

Jaehyun brushes the crumbs daintily off his lap, keeping his gaze on the silverware, “Reconnected with?”

“Yes.” Taeyong casts his eyes over Jaehyun’s shoulder, “A–a singer.”

Jaehyun looks up sharply, “A singer.”

“Do not,” Taeyong says, swiftly obliterating any further chance Jaehyun has to react. He takes a rather long swig from his drink, “He’s a–celebrity. And I’m just–working on some art for his next album.”

Jaehyun already knows where this is going. The last Taeyong ever spoke of anyone outside of their circle of family and friends was of an international model he’d dated for three months. That was two months ago.

And before _that_ , well.

Jaehyun sits a little straighter, “Who is he?”

Taeyong’s glare is interrupted by their server of the night returning with their meals. He sets Jaehyun’s mushroom risotto down, then Taeyong’s linguine with lobster, offering salt and pepper to which they both decline. He leaves with a hushed, _Please enjoy your meal._

“Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking,” Taeyong orders. He jabs into his spaghetti and twirls it against his spoon, “It’s not like that.”

“That’s what you said about Seokwoo hyung.” Jaehyun is glad that they’re seated towards the back of the restaurant, hidden from the ears of others. The knot in his chest debuts once more, “Then you dated him for three months across five continents.”

“You sound just like my mother.”

“There are seven continents.”

Taeyong groans, kicking at Jaehyun’s shin under the table, “I already said it’s not like that.”

“Who is it?”

“You’re going to be annoying about it.”

“Hyung.”

“Fine.” Taeyong whispers through a mouthful of spaghetti, “It’s Doyoung.”

Jaehyun nearly flies out of his seat.

Kim Doyoung, the industry’s brightest star; singer, actor, model, and–ex-boyfriend to one Lee Taeyong. They dated over five years ago, when Taeyong was a freshman in university, still an unknown name in the art stratosphere, and Doyoung had just released a single for a web series that didn’t do all too well. Kim Doyoung had been the first boyfriend Taeyong brought home and the first time Jaehyun had felt an intruder storm what he felt like was his entire world.

Jaehyun hadn’t liked change, and frankly, he still doesn’t. At the time, Doyoung’s presence at their Christmas dinner felt like an unwelcome addition and it’d taken him a fair amount of time to warm up to Doyoung before the useless ire in his heart faded away.

“This is bad,” Jaehyun already has plans to call Taejin and schedule an intervention, mind fumbling to wrap itself around the idea of Doyoung’s return, yet another adjustment he’ll have to deal with. Jaehyun doesn’t know why his heart’s racing, “Haven’t we already gone over this? Why would you even talk to him again after all–”

“‘We’? Jaehyun, I already said it’s not–”

“Hyung, this is Kim Doyoung we’re talking about. Didn’t Aunt Lee give him her great-grandmother’s coveted recipes? The ones she didn’t allow even Taejin to touch? The Kim Doyoung that was nearly the new addition to our _family tree_?”

“You’re overreacting.” Taeyong’s eyes flash, “We just bumped into one another at a party and got to talking.”

“You mourned the relationship for over a year.” _And I had to deal with it._ Jaehyun furrows his brows, “Are you even over him enough to be working with him again?”

“Listen to what I’m saying,” Taeyong sighs. “Nothing is going on with Doyoung and I. It’s strictly business.”

“Strictly business,” Jaehyun echoes flatly. He smiles tightly, “Of course.”

Taeyong takes a deep breath in, then out. He doesn’t speak, and neither does Jaehyun.

The initial surprise eventually withers away. Jaehyun stares at his risotto, conflicted at the rush of emotion that had surged through him just minutes ago, bewildered at his own outburst. Doyoung was far from a bad boyfriend to Taeyong and he has no authority over Taeyong’s life, he knows that much.

The day has just been too long.

Jaehyun pushes his food around, the guilt prickling, compelling him to shrink at the silence.

“Unless you’ve spontaneously developed feelings romantic-styles and is harboring some sort of crush on me,” Taeyong says plainly, “I’m going to say that this isn’t about Doyoung.”

Jaehyun glances at Taeyong, remorse doubling when he finds that there’s nothing but concern painted across his sharp features.

“Well? Are you in love with me?”

Jaehyun exhales, “No.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Doyoung and I,” he sighs, finding the words, “It’s strictly business. He’s made that very clear.”

There’s a sharp pang in Jaehyun’s chest.

Taeyong continues eating, unperturbed by the fact that Jaehyun hasn’t moved in the last minute, “He and I–I’ll bet good money it’s not the change that has you going mad and it’s not what I came here to talk to you about. You know that and I know that.”

Jaehyun had an inkling. Aunt Lee must’ve heard of his father’s plans to gift Jaehyun more tasks and responsibilities at the company, then revealing them to Taeyong out of concern. While the invite to dinner was welcomed, Jaehyun was better used to Taeyong more often than not appearing at his apartment unannounced and uninvited.

Jaehyun tries not to exacerbate the thoughts in his mind. Thoughts about the company, about the future, about purpose, about _life_ ; they’re locked away in a dark vault Jaehyun never acknowledges, never wants to open, never dares to open–unless he’s with Taeyong. Taeyong, who can talk him down with reason, who can put perspective in his discomfort, who can empathize with the tribulations of society’s modern-day royalty.

Taeyong is calm, “Talk to me.”

Jaehyun closes his eyes, surrenders for tonight, “He’s giving me authority. My father is.”

Taeyong nods.

“I don’t want it.” Jaehyun opens his eyes, shifts in his seat, “The authority, I mean, and the power. Not–not now, I guess, not yet, but I know the talk around me and I know what people are saying.”

“You’re not ready.”

Jaehyun forgoes the risotto and finishes his glass of wine. A waiter is there instantaneously, refilling Jaehyun’s glass and topping Taeyong’s up. When the waiter leaves, Jaehyun murmurs, “I’m not. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

“Do you want to be ready?”

“I don’t know.” Jaehyun hasn’t allowed himself to think about this lately, “Everyone wants me to be ready, or they think I already am, but I just don’t think I’m at the right place in my life for this. For the company.”

_For the future, for the change, for the unknown._

Taeyong hums, working hard at cutting his lobster tail into bite-sized pieces. He spears a piece on his fork, “I don’t think there’s a right place you could be. You could be better prepared, but there’s only so much within your control.”

Jaehyun waits for him to go on.

“There’s no right–no perfect place you can possibly be at in life.” Taeyong has always been incredibly introspective; Jaehyun, on the other hand, avoided thinking as much as he possibly could, “Life is chrysalis, isn’t it?”

Jaehyun has a working knowledge of grade twelve biology, but he’s skeptical over a reference to butterflies and metamorphosis, “Chrysalis.”

“A series of transitional states.” Taeyong explains, hands waving in front of him, “There is no perfect place, there is no perfect start or end. There is only chrysalis, and we can only prepare ourselves and welcome change.”

Jaehyun needs another drink.

“It’s something I’ve been struggling with too,” Taeyong admits. His lips are tinged red from the wine, “There’s only so much you can do, Jae. You can’t– _have_ everything, you can’t be good at everything. At some point, your ambition’s going to tinker out and even if you successfully take your father’s place, the chances of failing still exist. You might fail but know this–you’re going to have people around to help you up again.”

The possibility of failing is terrifying. The probability of failing is immense.

“It’s not the end that matters, right? Isn’t that what people always prattle on about?” Taeyong shrugs, “That it’s the journey?”

Jaehyun knows this, his mother has taught him many a life values; it’s just hard to believe on some days.

It doesn’t help that those days have been all days recently.

“Clearly, this isn’t something I expect–or think–that we can just sweep under a rug after a meal and call it a day,” Taeyong says, picking his fork and spoon back up, signaling the end to tonight’s touch on Jaehyun’s fears. He glances at Jaehyun, “You look as if that new secretary of yours ran a lawnmower over you.”

The exhaustion is bone deep, “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to your face.”

_“Hyung.”_

“All I’m saying is,” Taeyong interjects, “it’s not a conversation that has a start or an end either. It’s a conversation you should be having with me, or Aunt and Uncle Jung, or–I don’t know–a licensed psychiatrist.” Jaehyun tries not to look offended, “Point is: it’s okay if you’re not ready. There is no stopping in this world, things move on and so do people but we are here for you.

We’ll catch you if you fall.”

Jaehyun both loves and hates Taeyong all at the same time. As much as he appreciates the honesty and no bullshit, talking about life and the future has never failed to kick Jaehyun off a cliff and into a whirlpool of overthinking. He expects no sleep tonight.

“Brunch is tomorrow’s problem,” Taeyong says. He licks his lips, “Doyoung’s having a little pre-release party tonight for an album that’s coming out soon.”

Jaehyun picks his spoon up and has a big bite.

“Why don’t you come along?” Taeyong shrugs, “Have a drink, meet a couple of people, relax.”

The lump of chewed up risotto sticks in Jaehyun’s throat. The prospect of a night out is oddly harrowing, something tinkling around the back of Jaehyun’s mind. He swallows the last bite with difficulty, leans back in his chair and deems dinner done.

“I won’t let you stay out too late,” Taeyong promises.

Jaehyun guesses he could use a drink or two.

Doyoung’s pre-release gathering is more or less fifty people lounging around in one of Seoul’s most expensive rooftop bars, _Bar 902._ Half of the establishment is open-aired, towards the view where the city bleeds into residential areas, catching then the languid curve of the Han River.

It is, as promised, a perfect scene to unwind in. There are no salacious dancers or heart thrumming beats forcing its way through conversations and idle chatter, only the quiet hum of soft vocals and the casual clinking of glasses.

There are a few familiar faces, but Jaehyun saves greeting them for later, first following Taeyong to one of the empty booths fit cosy by the corner, away from the attention outside and across the length of the bar. The seats are velvet and they dip low when Jaehyun sits. On the table are Doyoung’s past albums and a small poster dating the release of his album. Jaehyun studies it for a bit; the design is sleek and the paper is sturdy.

Something about it is familiar.

It’s a miniature version of the posters on the walls, coupled with other framed promotional posters. Doyoung’s portrait colors monochrome, snug over a background of deep royal blue. In perfect cursive is presumably the title of his upcoming album– _Sunlight–_ embossed with silver foil. Under it is Doyoung’s handwritten thank you note in the same silver, lines short and rounded.

Jaehyun catches Taeyong shifting in the seat across him, eyes darting around the room in search for perhaps the star of tonight’s party.

“You should go,” Jaehyun says. Taeyong startles at the comment; the pink on his cheeks impossible to be a trick of light. Jaehyun sets the poster aside, “And find Doyoung hyung, I mean. Let him know you’re here.”

Taeyong fiddles with his sleeve, “Right.” He stands, “Do you want to come with?”

_No way_. Jaehyun shakes his head, “I’ll congratulate him when I see him.”

Taeyong doesn’t push, “Okay.”

He leaves calmly, surprising Jaehyun as he walks surely towards the back of _Bar 902,_ where a raised platform sits. Jaehyun can’t see past the shoulders of two strangers Taeyong slips by, so he settles with silently wishing Taeyong all the luck only the gods can give.

While the tale of Doyoung’s time with the Lees is no secret, there are still bits and pieces privy to only the family themselves–and of course, by relation, Jaehyun. One of them being the astonishing speed at which Doyoung had assimilated himself into the Lee family, earning with his wit and charm the favor of every lady in the house. He was perfect, in a way, mellowed when Taeyong bounced high; bright and exuberant when Taeyong stayed reserved.

They always moved in tandem, complete together and ready to balance the other out. Jaehyun had witnessed it himself, the blissful years they were together until they weren’t. Taeyong had never allowed himself to talk about it–the end that wrecked him–not even with Jaehyun, seeking solace only in tears and sleepless nights.

It makes their reunion, Jaehyun thinks, confusing. Taeyong had managed to dig himself free of heartbreak over four years ago and to willingly return to Doyoung, placing himself in a position that pushes them back to not even what they used to be?

He knows Taeyong’s still got a little heart left set aside for Doyoung, knows from the bitter way Taeyong spoke of their current relationship. If it still bothered him, why would he return? If it wasn’t meant to be, why walk the same path again?

Out of hope? Out of curiosity? Out of love?

Jaehyun doesn’t quite understand it.

Someday, maybe Taeyong will explain it to him, but tonight, he leaves the thought alone.

“Good evening, sir.” Jaehyun’s thoughts are interrupted by a server with two glasses of water on a tray. She sets two coasters down, “Would you like the menu or any drinks to start the night off?”

Jaehyun sits up, “Just a gin and tonic, please. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, I’ll return in a minute.” She places the waters atop the coaster, “Will Mr. Lee be returning to join you tonight?”

Jaehyun didn’t think she’d know them by name, but he isn’t surprised; Doyoung always ran a tight ship, “I’m not entirely sure.”

With a smile, “Not a problem.”

Jaehyun is left alone when she leaves. It’s instinct when he takes his phone out, a habit whenever he finds himself alone, as if the small piece of technology could shield him from everything else. He gives his email a cursory glance, then his messages–one from Eunwoo about a dinner sometime next week, two from a panicked PA Lee about his whereabouts–and the server is back.

Jaehyun thanks her and she leaves once more, flitting off between tables and circles of other guests. He takes the chance to survey the room over the top of his glass, noting the presence of a few celebrities–actors Yoon Jeonghan and Hong Jisoo, singers Do Kyungsoo and Yoo Kihyun, models Gu June and Chae Hyungwon–and a couple of faces Jaehyun knows from attending fundraisers. He makes a mental note to make pleasantries later.

The bar outside on the wooden deck is relatively empty, only a few pairs and trios gathered by tables, chatting over cosmopolitans and martinis and little glass jars with candles in them. Jaehyun can’t tack any names to the faces he manages to catch a glimpse of, receiving no help from the shadows cast by the moon.

Though, at the far corner of the rooftop deck is a figure in striking red. Jaehyun takes a sip from his drink, noting the way her ash brown hair is down to the small of her back, the way her dress fits her slim physique perfectly, the way her long legs are crossed, feet in a pair of red Louboutins to match.

She’s conversing with a stranger to her right, thin hands waving in the air as she spoke. Even at a distance the diamonds on her fingers and wrists can’t be ignored, a sizable rival to the stars in the night sky.

Jaehyun doesn’t know why he can’t look away just yet, the gnawing feeling at the back of his heart refusing to let him.

She laughs, leaning forward against the glass counter to hide behind a hand.

The gin and tonic goes right up Jaehyun’s nose.

It’s a glimpse, that’s all he gets. A glimpse of thick dark hair perfect to tug on, of a perfect smile and gentle dimples that’d once haunted his dreams, of a stranger Jaehyun had thought was left in the past. And it’s enough, the glimpse, the fraction of a second, a barb on a feather.

It’s enough for Jaehyun to know with every fiber in his living and breathing being.

It’s Johnny.

Johnny, who’s last month’s news. Johnny, who embraced Jaehyun in a way that still has him aching in places Johnny’s hands had ever been, in places he wished Johnny had held, in ways Jaehyun knows only of Johnny. Johnny, whose business card has gone stale, sitting in Jaehyun’s wallet for the past month, never once touched.

Jaehyun whirls back around, cheeks warming quick, eyes burning painfully at the gin in his airways. It wasn’t like he _didn’t_ think about calling Johnny again, it wasn’t like he didn’t think about Johnny at all, it’s just–things have been hectic, with the company, with the changes, with everything. Jaehyun barely has any time to himself, much less afford losing any of it to debating over whether he should call Johnny again, whether or not he could.

Because, even if he did, what would he say?

What could he say?

That he had a great night and that he wanted to see Johnny again? For a night? For coffee? If he called, what could he expect? What should he expect? There’re only so many things–one very single thing–a fling could want, and Johnny didn’t make any of that clear the morning after. Did Jaehyun even _want_ anything? Other than the blissful company Johnny had been, perfect and nothing Jaehyun could think to expect? Did he want it for another night?

Did he simply want more?

Jaehyun couldn’t. He can’t.

“Another, Mr. Jung?”

Jaehyun hadn’t realized that the glass in his hand was empty. There’s too much thinking and not enough numbing. He nods mutely to the waitress, who whisks away and returns quick, placing another gin and tonic in Jaehyun’s grasp. When she disappears, Jaehyun takes two gulps, swallowing a mint leaf whole. The ice clinks around and the drink is gone when Jaehyun opens his eyes.

It doesn’t douse the flame threatening to burn his insides black. It’s not the fact that Johnny’s here, no, Jaehyun tells himself, it’s not that at all. There’s no way. It was a one-night stand, he’s _had_ one-night stands, he’s had enough to know that this–this isn’t it.

Johnny was–Johnny is different. There’s no denying it, Jaehyun isn’t going to lie to himself. He concedes. It’s just–he can’t explain it; it isn’t something tangible he could see and understand, it hasn’t been ever since he’d caught Johnny staring at him, hasn’t been ever since he’d been lulled to sleep by the sound of Johnny’s beating heart, hasn’t been ever since the morning after that left Jaehyun wondering,

Why the hell did their one-night stand feel nothing like one?

“Another,” he murmurs to himself, legs coming to life on their own.

The cool marble of the bar countertop is a relief under Jaehyun’s clammy hands. The barkeep is gone with Jaehyun’s glass and by again with his new drink, clear gin with a new leaf of mint pressed between ice. Despite the bitter sting of alcohol in his throat, Jaehyun feels no older than when he was eleven, bound by the emotional capacity of a rubber eraser.

Jaehyun downs half of his drink, chewing through ice aggressively. The sting does nothing to stop the flurry of frantic thoughts, driving him to debate between the idea of ordering four more drinks or ducking out of here with his tail between his legs.

It’s embarrassing, he thinks, getting all flustered by nothing, all panicked over nothing.

“A Yamazaki, please. Neat.”

The ice in Jaehyun’s glass clinks.

_Johnny._

Johnny doesn’t seem to have noticed his presence, though Jaehyun doesn’t fault him, not with the way Jaehyun’s cowered over the bar, very obviously wishing it would split in half and swallow him whole. Still, he’s frozen in his terribly transparent spot beside Johnny, believing despairingly that if he held his breath, he would go unnoticed and be peacefully left alone.

A part of him hopes otherwise.

Jaehyun loses to the fervent desire–plain as day–to steal a peek. It’s been a time since they last met but the sight of Johnny’s profile is nothing unfamiliar. The way his hair is swept softly to the side, away from his eyes, revealing a simple silver earring and the cute tip of his nose. His lips look as soft as they’d been against Jaehyun’s, as sweet as Jaehyun so avidly remembers.

Johnny keeps his eyes on the wall of wine and spirits, gaze pausing ever so slightly, lips moving as he read off a label before going on to the next. His pointer finger taps against the marble gently, to the slow beat of Doyoung’s voice wafting above them, soft and low, one word bleeding into another.

Maybe it’s divine intervention. Jaehyun doesn’t know if he’d believe in that, or if he’d rather believe that it’s pure coincidence for them to cross paths again. It could be a sudden revelation, possibly. To whatever Johnny is, whoever he’s supposed to be, heart-stopping under night skies and over bar tops.

“Here you are, Mr. Suh.”

Jaehyun’s grip nearly forces a crack in the marble. He watches through the curtain of his hair, unblinking when the barkeep slides a glass over to Johnny, filled two-inches of auburn whiskey, set atop a square napkin.

“Thank you.”

And it’s that sweet, dulcet tone that frees Jaehyun.

Or it’s the way that same rat’s made its way back into Jaehyun’s throat, settling all too comfortably at his expense. Or it’s the way his heart’s beating out of time, slamming all around his ribcage at what is definitely a very, very plausible coincidence. Or it’s the way a part of him wishes Johnny would just notice him already, the way he did the first time they met, the way his eyes were on nothing but Jaehyun before Jaehyun could even _think_ to want it.

“Johnny?” Jaehyun’s voice is hoarse, cutting through his own thoughts to stop himself. He straightens carefully when Johnny’s eyes meets his, sparkling muted amusement. There is no recognition, no sliver of remembrance across Johnny’s inscrutable expression and Jaehyun nearly chokes on the rat, “Hi.”

Johnny tilts his head, earring catching the light. His brows furrow and he licks his lips, “I–I’m sorry, have we met somewhere?”

The blood drains from Jaehyun’s face.

“Oh.”

He fumbles to think of something– _anything–_ to say because he clearly hadn’t been memorable enough for Johnny to even pretend like they had something close to a pleasant night together and he’s being absolutely ridiculous worrying– _wishing_ –over nothing and–

“I’m–oh god, I’m sorry!”

And Johnny is smiling, crooked and charming and beyond question the same grin he’d given Jaehyun over a month ago. The confusion is gone from his gaze, replaced instead with a mischievous glint: the ice slips from Jaehyun, a flare of warmth curling around his chest, flickering up his neck and kissing the tips of his ears. Johnny takes a small sip from his glass, clearing enjoying what must be Jaehyun’s expression crossing both horror and bewilderment.

“Hello, Jaehyun.” Johnny’s smile is so painfully divine, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Jaehyun can’t, “What?”

Johnny bites on his lip, tries to stop a giggle from breaking through, “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

Jaehyun blinks, feeling a bit of blood returning to his cheeks, hating how it’s twice now how Johnny’s so effortlessly rendered him completely inarticulate.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Johnny says. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that Jaehyun can’t find enough air to fill his lungs, smile serene as ever, “How have you been?”

“Good, good–fine, fine.” _Stop talking_ , Jaehyun winces, “And you?”

“Alright,” Johnny hums. He drops his gaze to his drink, “Been going around town a lot, getting to know the streets and buildings, trying to get a grasp of the metro lines.”

“Right.” Jaehyun’d forgotten Johnny’s comment on being new in town, too preoccupied that day by other turn of events, “And are you settling in well? In Seoul?”

“I am, mostly,” Johnny muses. There’s another pause, brief but there, tension almost tangible in the space between them. He takes a sip of auburn, “Though, I haven’t found any good coffee places, I don’t think.”

There’s an ache rising in Jaehyun’s chest, though it isn’t as daunting as he’d thought, hearing Johnny talk about where they’d last left things; it really is the only history they have between them.

“Sorry.” Jaehyun doesn’t know if an apology is what Johnny wants to hear but it’s starting to feel like he’s doing everything wrong so he threads through words carefully, “I’ve been busy. With work.” He feels like the ceiling could crash on them anytime. Half of him wants it to, “Really.”

Johnny laughs, short and soft, “It’s alright, I understand.” His smile is rueful, “I told you I wouldn’t wonder.”

It’s overwhelming, knowing Johnny thinks as he does, having Johnny’s presence within his reach once more. The floor seems to sink like sand under Jaehyun’s feet, bringing him back to the night he’d been stumbling, saved only when he’d fallen right into Johnny’s arms.

Jaehyun’s heart, as traitorous as hearts go, yearns.

“Johnny, I–”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny says too. Jaehyun’s jaw snaps shut, loud enough for Johnny to wait for only a second, “I’m–sorry, Jaehyun. I didn’t mean to make things awkward by saying that because I _do_ mean it, that it really–is nice. Getting to see you again.”

The words die in the back of Jaehyun’s throat.

“I mean I knew asking you out was a long shot and I know I said I wouldn’t wonder,” Johnny admits to his hands, endearing when he lets his hair fall over his eyes, “but I did–hope you’d call. Even if it was just for coffee.”

“I was going to,” Jaehyun lies, white and more of an attempt to convince himself that he wholeheartedly wasn’t intent on letting Johnny’s name card expire in his wallet. He doesn’t understand the tormenting need to prove himself, “I was.”

“I–it’s–” Johnny bites on his lip, shakes on his head like he can’t believe himself, “I must be–you must think I’m crazy.”

Jaehyun feels a little light-headed himself.

“For saying these things.” Johnny shrugs, twisting the glass in his hand, “I don’t–we’re not even–I–you must think I’m crazy for–for…”

Johnny trails off, almost shrinking away from the counter. The stammering is new, Jaehyun notices, unlike the cool, calm persona Johnny had once owned. Maybe they were both a little swayed by Jackson Wang’s personal distillery.

Johnny doesn’t finish his sentence, and instead takes a long drink of auburn.

Jaehyun wants to know, “For what?”

“I–it’s nothing,” Johnny decides, replacing his thoughtful expression with a good-natured smile. He turns to Jaehyun, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, “It was nice running into you again tonight, Jaehyun.”

It sounds like a parting remark, looks it too by the way Johnny’s pulling away from the counter, body angled to leave. Jaehyun still has words he wants to say, words he hasn’t yet thought of saying.

“Jaehyun!”

With impeccable timing, Taeyong materializes by Jaehyun’s side, smile too wide and his eyes screaming for help. His small hand curls around Jaehyun’s elbow, fingers digging into Jaehyun’s suit and exuding enough unease to rid Jaehyun of his own. The question settles in Jaehyun’s throat because their lovely group of three is immediately joined by another.

With dark hair and a pair of wired glasses on his nose, the wine glass in the boy’s slender hand looks singularly out of place. He’s taller than Taeyong is by a couple of inches, but the wide eyes and easy smile emanates an air of genuine happiness Jaehyun doesn’t know what to do with.

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong clears his throat, moving to gesture plainly, “This is Lee Minhyung. One of the rappers featuring on Doyoung’s new album.”

In his peripheral, he sees Johnny take a sip from his drink.

“Hello,” Jaehyun recovers quickly, sticking a hand out and shaking Minhyung’s, “Jung Jaehyun. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, man!” Minhyung smiles, wide and full of teeth, and lets go of Jaehyun’s hand to hold it out towards Johnny, “My name’s Minhyung, but you can call me Mark. Or Minhyung, but I go by Mark a lot, but I mean–you know, whatever you like!”

Jaehyun take a swig of his gin, looking to Taeyong over the rim of his glass. Taeyong merely pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales quietly.

“Mark it is then,” Johnny nods, matching Mark’s energy with a broad grin, “Johnny Suh, but you can call me Johnny.”

There are lights in Mark’s eyes, “Johnny it is then!” He looks from Johnny to Jaehyun, wine sloshing dangerously in his glass when he waves his hands waving midair, “Are you guys here together?”

Jaehyun snorts into his drink, failing spectacularly to cover it with a cough. His gaze meets Johnny’s across him and his ears are set ablaze when the corner of Johnny’s lips twitch in amusement.

“What? No,” Taeyong interjects, “Jaehyun’s a friend of mine, and Johnny–” he pauses, as if only now noticing Johnny’s presence, “–Johnny is?”

Jaehyun snubs the instinctive reaction to run.

“A friend,” Johnny says. He offers a hand to Taeyong, who takes it with a frown, “Of Doyoung’s.”

Jaehyun doesn’t expect that. Taeyong’s frown deepens.

“An old friend,” Johnny clarifies, somehow understanding Taeyong’s defensiveness, “And a photographer.”

Johnny motions to the framed portraits and posters around _Bar 902,_ variations of Doyoung against fields of baby blue eyes, star-shaped with rounded petals and a white center. Another set of photographs feature Doyoung alongside a picturesque sky of rose and lavender hues, face tilted towards the golden flare of a sunset. The photographs are enthralling, the composite of vivid colors and indistinct saliency a perfect vessel of genuine effortlessness that invokes a sense of serenity.

Jaehyun can’t take his eyes off them.

Taeyong isn’t as impressed. He pokes Jaehyun’s shoulder, “And you know him too?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun says, the one syllable foreign on his tongue.

“Oh, cool!” Mark, Jaehyun thinks, is so innocently… innocent. “So you guys _are_ here together, that’s so nice honestly–I feel so _awkward_ , like, everyone’s so cool and like, I’m kinda new around here so I don’t know anyone to hang out with, you know?” Johnny nods, spurring Mark to go on, “Right! I’m so glad Doyoung hyung introduced me to Taeyong hyung because man, I would’ve been bummed being at this party alone and now I get to meet you guys!”

“Aha ha _ha_ ,” Taeyong deadpans, “I’m glad too.”

Mark returns his attention to Jaehyun, “Are you friends with Doyoung hyung too?” Jaehyun parts his lips to answer but Mark barrels on, “I mean, I haven’t really met any of Doyoung hyung’s other friends even though I’ve been working with Doyoung hyung for, like a couple of months now on this new album but seriously, all he talks about is Taeyong hyung and _dude_ –” he grins at Taeyong, missing the way Jaehyun jerks a hand up to hide a smile, “–you’d think he’d have other things to talk about.”

Taeyong blinks twice, dumbfounded, “Doyoung… talks about me?”

“Only all the time!” Mark gushes, blissfully oblivious.

Taeyong’s eyes are wide with hope, “Er, listen, Minhyung–”

“Mark,” Jaehyun pipes up, the same time Johnny corrects, “Mark.”

They trade glances, but Johnny flicks his gaze away when Jaehyun does, nursing his whiskey silently. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Taeyong, though he mercifully lets it slide, already gently guiding Mark away, “Right. Mark. Yes, Mark, er–let me get you another drink.”

“Wow, hyung, really!” Mark is wreathed in smiles, goggling at Taeyong, then Jaehyun and Johnny, then Taeyong again, “I’m really so glad I met you guys tonight, I was real worried I wouldn’t know anyone around here and I was going to tell Doyoung that I wouldn’t–”

“Yes, yes, _yes_ , we’re all merry friends,” Taeyong hustles Mark along, in great need of extracting whatever information he can from the poor boy. “Let’s get you another one of those whatever slushie drinks.”

Jaehyun shoots Taeyong a crooked grin when he pushes Mark on by.

“Do not,” Taeyong warns.

“I absolutely will not,” Jaehyun promises

“I’ll see you guys around!” Mark calls out, waving goodbye to Johnny and Jaehyun, both of whom seemingly wise to Taeyong’s intentions.

Mark’s laugh, sharp and loud, is eventually buried when Taeyong manages to haul the young boy far enough to interrogate. Jaehyun shakes his head, triumphant in his confidence that there couldn’t possibly be _nothing_ between Doyoung and Taeyong–anyone who's spent any time with them both in a single conversation would say the same.

“That was Lee Taeyong, wasn’t it?”

Jaehyun nods, “You know him?”

“Of him, I do,” Johnny says. He looks over the top of Jaehyun’s head, “Mark was right. Doyoung really does talk about him a lot.”

_Called it_ , Jaehyun doesn’t say, but he files that information away for later. “And you’re a friend? Of Doyoung’s?”

“We met through a couple of mutual friends when he was touring,” Johnny says. When he drops his gaze, Jaehyun swears he sees that same gold fleck in Johnny’s eye, “I’m actually here with them tonight. Our friends.”

Oh.

Oh, right.

Right.

“Ah, well.” Jaehyun moves to hold onto his empty glass with both hands, refusing to submit to the curling ire he’s ignited on his own, “I won’t keep you busy then.”

Johnny pauses, “That’s not what I–”

“No, it’s okay, I should probably get back to–”

“Did you fly to Osaka for that Yamazaki?”

Jaehyun isn’t surprised by the interruption. In fact, he’s almost thankful for it, seeing as both he and Johnny are so horribly incapable of having a normal conversation.

Johnny’s eyes linger on Jaehyun’s face, searching for a heartbeat before he twists around, stepping aside when he does.

It’s the lady in red from earlier, an unmistakable flawless physique with fine, delicate features meant to be admired. Her eyes steal the show: a deep brown yet all the more attractive, clean flicks of a black-winged liner highlighting her razor-edged stare, a beauty mark above her left eyelid. Her irises glitter when they flit from Johnny to Jaehyun, casting her gaze once over Jaehyun’s frame.

“I ran into a friend.” Johnny returns the empty glass to the squared napkin, gestures for another, “I won’t be another minute.”

“The rest sent me.” She quirks a smile, shooting Johnny a plaintive look, “They’d thought you’d gone running off again.” Johnny moves to defend himself but she steps forward, thin hand out for Jaehyun to take, “I think I’ve seen you around, have we met? Are you a friend of John’s?”

_John._

“I don’t think we have met, but yes, I am,” Jaehyun says, shakes her hand once, surprised by the warmth in them. He ignores the way Johnny watches him, “Jung Jaehyun.”

“Kang Seulgi.” When she smiles, the ice in her eyes melts away instantaneously, radiating an air of benevolence Jaehyun wasn’t expecting, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Without bitterness, she beams, “We’ve heard quite a bit about you, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s neck threatens to snap in half when he looks to Johnny, who’s already in the midst of steering Seulgi back where she’d come from,

“–other people’s _business_ , you know, you guys are always on my–”

“We just didn’t know what was taking you so long.” Seulgi bites on her lip, pearl white against Ruby Woo red, “You’re missing a great view out there–Jongin’s singing into a fork and Sehun’s figured out a ridiculous plan to get Vivi in here. I told him that we should–”

“I’ll be back in a minute, just don’t be annoying right now, Seul–I _mean_ it this time,” Johnny mutters, ushering a giggly Seulgi away. She throws Jaehyun a knowing grin over her shoulder, waving over Johnny’s shoulder where he towers over her.

Jaehyun tracks the brilliant contrast of her red dress until she’s ducking back out onto the deck, taking her dazzling energy with her and leaving the scene a little dimmer than before.

“Sorry about that.” Johnny runs a hand through his hair when he returns, a grimace on his lips, “She’s always–messing around, saying things…” he murmurs the rest under his breath, waving his hands in the air, “…talking and stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun says. The words are hard to master, “She seems nice.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything to that, tongue darting out to wet his lips. A new glass of Yamazaki is served and he takes a long enough drink, then looks to Jaehyun, “Well.”

“Well,” Jaehyun returns.

“I should probably–get back. To my friends.”

“You should,” Jaehyun nods, slowly. There is something Jaehyun recognizes, the godawful wrench in his chest, the hesitance and uncertainty pouring from Johnny’s very being, the same ones flooding his veins, but–but. No reason, just– _but_. He composes a smile, “Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

Something in Johnny’s face shifts, “Right.” He laughs, small and mirthless, “Wouldn’t want to miss that great view out there.”

Jaehyun laughs too, short and forced.

A grip curls around his gut when he lets himself think. He doesn’t know if he’s doing this right, whatever this is; he hadn’t called Johnny despite wanting to, despite _Johnny_ wanting him to, but: the universe–gods, angels, and the saints–has brought Johnny here, standing before him, hesitating, wondering.

And it’s that same smile, faint and almost–reticent. Johnny doesn’t move, trapped under Jaehyun’s gaze as Jaehyun is under his. He blinks slowly, eyes searching Jaehyun’s, thinking and thinking and thinking, Jaehyun can practically hear it in his own head.

At once, Jaehyun decides. He doesn’t have to know, he doesn’t have to think, he just has to admit–that he wants. For tonight once more, he wants, and from the way Johnny’s eyes are on his lips, he strongly hopes Johnny wants too.

“My apartment,” Jaehyun blurts out. He swallows thickly, warmth rising to his cheeks when Johnny’s eyes go round,

“It has a pretty great view too.”


	5. born in cold and rain knows

Jaehyun doesn’t miss the way Johnny does a double-take when the driver pulls up to the entrance of _The Jungs Cheongdam_. He doesn’t say anything about the hotel or the fact that everyone in the lobby straightens at the sight of Jaehyun, but he follows close behind, quietly admiring the golden arches and luxurious chandeliers. Jaehyun nods politely when he’s greeted, noting the way Johnny does the same, earning himself a handful of sharp inhales and plenty of bashful smiles. They don’t speak, not when there are eyes on them, and Jaehyun is comforted to hear Johnny’s faint footsteps never too far behind him.

An elevator is ready for them when they arrive at the lobby. Jaehyun thanks the bellhop quietly, noticing the button to the fifty-sixth floor already lit. The bellhop bids them a good night, keeping his head lowered until the doors slide shut, encasing Jaehyun and Johnny in silence once more.

The soft whir of the elevators fills the space between.

“So,” Johnny says, breaking the silence. He’s watching the numbers on the panel rise, “This is a hotel.”

Jaehyun is terribly interested in the mosaic design of the elevator’s granite floor, “I live here.”

Johnny is quiet for a while, possibly fitting the puzzle pieces together. It hasn’t come up, the fact that Jaehyun’s the sole successor to the Jung Conglomerate, and neither did it seem like Johnny was any interested or aware of this aspect Jaehyun knows most would fuss over. He doesn’t place too much thought into it; considering the circles they run in, the chances of Johnny knowing names far more prestigious than the Jungs are relentlessly high.

Still, Jaehyun lets himself wonder, _Did he ask because it’s a hotel?_

The fifty-sixth floor arrives too soon. The elevator opens up to only large, dense double doors of grand oak, gold handles adorned in the center. Jaehyun presses his thumb to the concealed sensor on the side of the shaft, unlocking the entrance to the grand penthouse of the so aptly named, The Valentine Suite.

When _The Jungs Cheongdam_ was built a year ago, the entirety of the topmost level was designed and lavishly furnished personally by Madam Jung as it was later presented as a birthday gift for Jaehyun. With a private rooftop and enough rooms to fit a family of three generations, The Valentine Suite is home to Jaehyun and Mrs. Shin, the occasional housekeeper that comes by twice a week.

Jaehyun toes his shoes off and sets it aside, hovering slightly while Johnny does the same, all the while taking in the high ceilings and over-the-top ornaments Madam Jung insisted on displaying: a couple of exorbitantly priced vases and a few pieces of modern artwork she’d bought at an art auction in London. Jaehyun grabs a pair of fluffy slippers from the wooden shelf for Johnny, slipping into his own when Johnny accepts it with a murmured _Thank you_.

Dark hardwood floors span across the penthouse, complemented by furniture of shades ranging from ivory to a light beige, creating and representing the epitome of modern yet minimalistic luxury. There are a few Monstera plants in ceramic pots set out; Madam Jung was insistent they would do well to free Jaehyun of his morning sinuses all the while acting as pieces that brightened up the suite. One of Taeyong’s paintings hangs above the stretch of a creamy-white canvas couch, an abstract blend of acrylic paint Jaehyun still can’t make any sense of.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the view. With floor to ceiling windows of Plexiglas and large, unencumbering dark frames, Seoul’s skyline is as breathtaking at night as it is in the day. Johnny is drawn to it instantaneously, padding across the room to stand before the window wall, lips parted in silent admiration. Jaehyun joins him quietly, appreciating the mesmerizing cityscape, a startling beauty that never fails to captivate.

Rows of Seoul’s towering skyscrapers leave little blinking red lights in the night sky, cloudless. There are no stars either, the heavens a cold terrestrial; the only specks against them are of artificial light from the offices working through the night.

Beside him, Johnny makes no indication of moving. His face is tipped towards the sky, absorbed in taking in the night. His eyes are illuminated by the silvery moonlight, scintillating as he remains riveted by the view. Really, it isn’t anything Jaehyun hasn’t already spent hours admiring, and alas, he finds that he’d rather be admiring Johnny instead, a view he hasn’t yet allowed himself to indulge in.

The gentle curve of Johnny’s lips has Jaehyun thinking, and he knows for a matter-of-fact that Johnny very well knows he _is_ staring, but he finds that under the night sky, he doesn’t really care.

He is reluctant to shatter the atmosphere, but it’s good manners to offer, “Would you like a drink?”

Johnny startles like he’d truly lost himself for a moment.

“Tea?”

Johnny nods, smile faint, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Jaehyun leaves Johnny for the kitchen, which is more of a decorative area than an actual kitchen used for its purpose. It’s adopted an open concept; the only separation between it and the living area is a large custom kitchen island with a concrete top. Nevertheless, the pantry is fully stocked with cereals and the refrigerator with fresh fruit, though incomparable to the range and quantity available at the Papillon.

After some rummaging and grumbling under his breath, Jaehyun manages to find two mugs to steep their tea in. The packaging is in Mandarin, which Jaehyun has a trying command of, but he goes with it anyway, recalling it to be a gift from Seokmin from the last time he went up to Beijing. He lets them sit in the porcelain mugs for a minute or two, antsy as he watches the water darken amber.

When he approaches Johnny, he makes sure to scuff his slippers lightly against the hardwood floors, not wanting to surprise the other again. Johnny turns when he hears Jaehyun approaching and moves immediately to take the mug offered.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaehyun murmurs. He returns to settle by Johnny’s side, taking a careful sip from his mug. He’s not sure for how long they watch the night pass, just breathing whenever Johnny does, drinking whenever Johnny does.

“It’s beautiful,” Johnny whispers eventually. Jaehyun blinks, tips his chin to look at Johnny, who remains enamored by the sky, “I haven’t seen Seoul like this.”

Jaehyun agrees, “It’s hard to believe that the city could ever be this quiet.” He licks his lips, “Where you’re from… is it like this too?”

“A little,” Johnny says. He looks to the streets lined with streetlights a marigold flow, “I grew up in the suburbs in Chicago, which was mostly quiet streets and massive lawns. But I moved to New York for university and I guess,” he pauses, then decides, “yeah, it’s kind of like this.”

New York, Jaehyun’s been a couple of times. Chicago, maybe once.

“It’s nice there,” Johnny says. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t.

Jaehyun nods. Then asks, “Did you major in photography?”

“Ah, no,” Johnny shakes his head. He waves a hand as he speaks, “Photography’s more of a hobby. I majored in Economics.” He glances at Jaehyun, “And you?”

“Business.” Jaehyun focuses on a red dot in the sky, “Did you–move here for work?”

There’s a bout of silence. Jaehyun looks to Johnny and regrets it the moment he sees the wonder on Johnny’s face. He doesn’t recant the question, despite Johnny’s scrutiny. There was certainly a preconceived intention, inviting Johnny back here, but Jaehyun doesn’t want to think about that just yet. He can’t deny the curiosity he has for Johnny, a sincere interest he hasn’t felt in a while, one he doesn’t want to set aside.

“Not exactly,” Johnny says finally. He turns away and relaxes his shoulders, “My mother wanted to move back to Seoul and I wanted to see what it was like. I haven’t been back since I was fifteen so I figured I’d stay for a couple of months, help my parents settle in, find out what I’ve missed, visit a few friends,” he hums, “make some new ones.”

“And have you?” Jaehyun keeps his eyes on Johnny, “Made any new ones?”

“A couple,” Johnny says.

Jaehyun doesn’t think, “Were they–with you at the party today?”

That captures Johnny’s attention. He shifts to face Jaehyun with an unreadable expression, “Seulgi’s an old friend.” He stops again, then haphazardly, “She’s an ex.”

Jaehyun is apprehensive, feeling small under Johnny’s attention. _It was just a question,_ he internalizes, _I didn’t mean anything by it._ Something swells in his chest; too fast of a bloom, frightening yet all too enticing. He clears his throat loudly, hears it echoes through the hollow apartment.

“It was a long time ago.” Johnny looks as hesitant as Jaehyun is, as if he isn’t sure either, why they’re talking about this. He does a better job than Jaehyun, however, going on, “And I wanted to apologize too, for–when she was talking about you. Earlier.”

Jaehyun waits.

“After our–” Johnny gestures messily between them, “I was curious about you and so I–asked my friends if they knew you. Or if they knew anything about you. I figured they might, since Sehun’s party didn’t exactly call for a long guest list.”

Jaehyun doesn’t blink.

“It’s embarrassing,” Johnny admits.

Jaehyun can’t feel his legs, “What did they say?”

“Nothing I couldn’t Google,” Johnny says. He glances at Jaehyun, then away, shifting awkwardly, “They were mostly just annoyed, eventually. At me. Because I’ve just been–” Johnny laughs, breathless, “–talking. About you. Too much.” And in a single breath, “They think I talk too much about you and it’s embarrassing, I–know, because I don’t know you but I–I–still think about you.”

There’s a strong rattle in Jaehyun’s chest, wishing to be let free.

And it’s evident that Johnny is done speaking. His jaw is set tightly, eyes drilling holes into the empty sky. There’s no movement, none other than the breaths they take and the cars fifty-six floors beneath their feet. Jaehyun doesn’t know the words to use, the ones that could possibly convey the jumbled garble in his mind.

So he moves, laying a tentative hand on Johnny’s arm, feeling the taller go rigid under his touch. It’s slow, the path his hand trails up Johnny’s side, stuttering to a stop when his fingertips brush against the curve of Johnny’s jaw, gently coaxing to have their eyes meet.

He wishes for a second that time would stop.

Jaehyun startles when Johnny does turn, the darkness in his eyes commanding a depth he hasn’t ever seen. It has him mesmerized; breath stuck somewhere in his airway when Johnny inches closer, deliberately slow in closing the gap between them.

They kiss, tea and view forgotten.

It’s like coming home, kissing Johnny again. Jaehyun fits perfectly where he crowds Johnny, pressing their shoulders to hips flush. Their noses brush and Jaehyun licks into Johnny’s mouth, arousal coiling tight when Johnny groans into the kiss, hand strong on Jaehyun’s hip. They part only for a second when Jaehyun refuses to hold onto the mug any longer, collecting Johnny’s too and setting them both down on the tea table not far from where they stand.

Jaehyun gasps, finding himself back in Johnny’s arms the moment the mugs hit the table. He accepts it graciously, spinning around to curl his arms around Johnny’s neck, pushing himself up on his tiptoes, desperate to be completely surrounded by Johnny and only Johnny.

“I need to–” Jaehyun breathes, when Johnny relents to leave wet kisses down his neck, “–before we–I should–” He tightens his grip when Johnny pulls away, cheeks hot from the way Johnny insists on holding him, “Before we–I have to–”

“Okay,” Johnny licks his lips, an insatiable fire in his eyes. His hold on Jaehyun’s waist loosens, gentle now, “Do you want me to–”

“No,” Jaehyun says quickly. He doesn’t need Johnny’s tantalizing self around while he–jumps around the bathroom with a wet cloth and some of that peach-scented lotion he’s saved for nights like these. He fights the carnal desire to pull Johnny close, “It’s okay. Just–don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay.” Johnny takes a deep breath, letting Jaehyun step out of the warm cocoon they’d so quickly made together, “I won’t.”

Jaehyun returns to his bedroom to find Johnny standing by the window wall, an extension that ran across the east of The Valentine Suite, hands clasped firmly behind his back. He hears Jaehyun leave the en suite, shoulders dropping slightly when Jaehyun approaches without preamble, a small smile on his lips. Jaehyun tosses a half-filled bottle of lube and two teal foil packets onto the bed, grinning when Johnny eyes them with a cocked brow. 

There’s no question, the ease Johnny has accepting Jaehyun back into his arms like it’s the hundredth time they’re embracing. He greets Jaehyun with a timid kiss on the lips, the fire from before simmering in the back of their minds.

Jaehyun wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist, stepping between Johnny’s thighs and tilting his face up for Johnny to openly admire. A chill tingles down his spine when Johnny smooths his hands up Jaehyun’s sides, stopping only when he’s cradling Jaehyun’s cheeks.

“Beautiful.”

It’s a whisper, slipped free between Johnny’s lips like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud, like it’s just a thought so exigent, one he couldn’t keep to himself. And it should be mortifying, hearing Johnny compliment him like this, no liquid courage to bolster his confidence, but Jaehyun only melts–like ice cream on a summer sidewalk.

It’s Johnny, exuding sincerity in his sugary words, making Jaehyun believe in them, even if he weren’t doubting it in the first place. He didn’t think he was exceedingly attractive–he certainly isn’t a rotten egg, but the basket’s full of models and celebrities and actors that simply can’t be held in comparison.

“I don’t know why I–”

Johnny doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to. He searches Jaehyun’s face, soaking in every curve and dip, an admiration impossible to decipher. Jaehyun drowns willingly, refusing to let go when Johnny kisses him. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it is at the same time a relief when Johnny kisses him dear, groaning when he presses forward, reunited with Johnny’s warmth.

Jaehyun hooks a leg around Johnny’s waist, a silent request Johnny immediately welcomes, hefting him up in one swift motion. It knocks the air out of Jaehyun, blushing at the fact Johnny seems completely unbothered, picking him up like he weighed absolutely nothing. Johnny grins into the kiss when Jaehyun hooks his ankles together, now earning an edge over Johnny in height, snugly carried in strong arms.

The bed is under Jaehyun not long after, limbs still curled tightly around Johnny, lips never straying from Johnny’s. He eventually gets to unbuttoning Johnny’s shirt, needing to have Johnny bare against him again, hungry fingers fumbling as he goes. Johnny smiles into the kiss, and together they free themselves of shirts and belts and slacks, adoring one another without words, just touches and kisses.

Johnny’s groan punctuates the silence when Jaehyun hauls him forward, rolling them around until he’s satisfied with Johnny under him once more, bracketing Johnny’s waist with his thighs.

“You’re strong,” Johnny comments, but makes no move to overthrow Jaehyun, hands already magnets to Jaehyun’s hips.

“Am I?” Jaehyun hums. He braces both palms on Johnny’s chest, clearly angling his hips to Johnny’s, biting on his lip when he fits perfectly, “So are you.”

“Why, thank you,” Johnny grins. 

The air is different this time; it’s lighter as if there isn’t care left for anything else, only them basking in delight to have each other again. There is mirth in Johnny’s eyes, in his laugh when Jaehyun pokes at his chiseled torso, questioning the number of salads he’s had to have to get them. It’s effortless being with Johnny, murmuring playful jabs and barely concealed compliments at the other as if they’ve spent a thousand nights together.

Gone is the trying attempt to keep the walls from moving, the floors from sliding under their feet, the near-pristine condition of the Papillon a cold bite to warm skin.

Jaehyun doesn’t let himself forget anything this time: the lines down Johnny’s chest, the curve that leads under the band to a pair of Calvin Kleins, the curl of Johnny’s lips when their eyes meet. He slides his hands over Johnny’s shoulders, hips rocking down as he lowers himself to kiss Johnny chastely.

Johnny moans, delicious under Jaehyun. He props his legs up, heels digging into the sheets, holding Jaehyun steady as he rolls up to meet Jaehyun’s thrusts, panting with every brush. Jaehyun succumbs to desire quickly, lying flat against Johnny and nuzzling their cheeks together, rutting hard. He whines when Johnny bows off the bed, desperation matching Jaehyun’s in hitched breaths and low growls. Jaehyun gives up on kissing, the arousal too much for him to bear; he tangles his hands in Johnny’s hair, tugging once and then again when Johnny groans, and decides instead to suck at whatever skin in his reach, too far gone to do anything else but rock against Johnny.

Jaehyun comes first, mortifyingly quick. Johnny follows soon after, grip bruising Jaehyun’s hips, head thrown back and neck exposed for Jaehyun to explore. His lashes flutter and he exhales heavily, legs giving way, falling apart.

“That was–”

Johnny doesn’t say. Jaehyun agrees anyway.

It’s sticky in his briefs but he doesn’t mind it, still rocking languidly against Johnny, not entirely satisfied yet. He kisses along Johnny’s neck, licks a few stripes that make Johnny shiver, letting his left hand trail over Johnny’s chest, touch featherlight. It’s comfortable, much more than it was when they were standing apart, fully clothed and both too awkward trying to make sense of their brief history.

“This is nice,” Johnny whispers into the dark, a hand stroking Jaehyun’s back, the other cheekily on Jaehyun’s ass, fingers toying with the hem of Jaehyun’s briefs, stealing touches.

Jaehyun nods lazily. He hadn’t slept with anyone else after Johnny–too busy to, and frankly, there wasn’t anyone Jaehyun was remotely interested in–and it’s plainly nice, being adored again. He skips talking to push himself up, just enough to kiss Johnny, hungry to taste again.

“Do you–?” is what Johnny asks, when it’s evident against their stomachs that neither of them are ready for the night to end.

Jaehyun lets Johnny tip them to the side, tilting his lips up and presenting them to Johnny to be kissed. Johnny forgoes the question and kisses him, a drowning kiss, one Jaehyun doesn’t want to be free of. He cants his hips up, sufficed by the short breath of relief the comes with it. His legs fall open for Johnny to settle between, the heavy weight against him comforting and familiar.

Distantly, Jaehyun thinks.

Wonders if this is the last night they’ll have together, wonders if he’ll let Johnny leave in the morning again, wonders if he’ll let himself accept that this isn’t the one-night stand he believes it to be. It can’t be–not when the butterflies refuse to leave his stomach whenever Johnny so much as glances at him, not when the thought of Johnny in his arms is undeniably the only thing he yearns for, not when the prospect of nothing more than tonight pierces like fresh foam of a cold tide at dawn.

Then Johnny kisses down his chest and Jaehyun can’t think. He whines in anticipation when Johnny guides his knees to his chest, kissing along Jaehyun’s torso, planting a particularly wet one on Jaehyun’s bellybutton.

“An outie,” Johnny mumbles.

Jaehyun nods dazedly, hands holding onto the backs of his knees for the life of him, waiting, watching Johnny all too carefully. He squirms when Johnny doesn’t stop, whispering nothing along Jaehyun’s inner thighs, drifting too close yet too far.

“ _Johnny_ ,” Jaehyun manages to gasp, craning his neck to look at where Johnny’s nestled between him. He nods again, frantically when Johnny hovers, asking for permission, nose pressed gently to Jaehyun’s knee.

The briefs are yanked off Jaehyun, and it’s not surprising how Jaehyun holds himself in place for Johnny to caress, already hard from the prospect of _Johnny_. He tenses when Johnny kisses him softly, mouthing along his length, the plush of Johnny’s lips a godly sensation that ripples up his torso. Jaehyun lets his head fall back onto the bed, anchoring himself as Johnny licks over his perineum, moving low steadily.

Jaehyun mewls, losing himself to where Johnny’s breath fans hotly, never yet breaching. He writhes, toes curling, desperate to have something–preferably Johnny–in him. His hands fall to grip the sheets when Johnny licks at his entrance, tongue the devil to the sensitive furl of pink Johnny can’t stop teasing.

“Please,” Jaehyun moans, nudging against Johnny’s shoulder with the heel of his foot. His body is taut against the bed, rigid in suspense, and he isn’t above begging Johnny to please do something about it, “ _Please_ , Johnny.”

Johnny hums and the vibration is enough to rip a sob from Jaehyun’s throat. Then he’s licking into Jaehyun, granting wishes and lighting fireworks behind Jaehyun’s eyes. His hands are firmly on Jaehyun, holding him steady even as Jaehyun’s legs threatened to close, even as Jaehyun’s hips jerk up, longing for a friction he doesn’t get. 

Jaehyun arches, hand flying to tangle in Johnny’s hair to hold him in place when the movement threatens a loss he can’t bear to lose. He fights every inhale, growing light-headed with every push, every lick past the first ring of muscle, trembling as Johnny spreads him open, moaning into Jaehyun, worshipping with a reverence worth crying for.

“I can’t–I can’t– _breathe_ –” Jaehyun gasps, the tightness in his gut too much to handle. He struggles for air, panicked at how _good_ it feels, at how it feels like he can’t breathe quick enough anymore. He wants to run from Johnny, all the while let himself be caught, suffocated and _filled_. It’s monumental, the effort it takes to tap at Johnny’s temple, and he manages to strangle out, “Wait, _Johnny,_ please–”

At once, Johnny eases off, returning to Jaehyun’s line of sight. And a sight he is: puffy lips a dark pink, a thin sheen of saliva over his lips and chin, hair mussed up where Jaehyun had been remarkably unkind. There’s a question in his eyes, melded with concern, raking over Jaehyun’s build as if he expected to see Jaehyun hurting.

“I want you.”

Jaehyun admits this bravely into the night, heart pounding so loudly in his ears. He’s not sure if he’d admitted it aloud, but the way Johnny’s eyes widen is enough for Jaehyun to know he did.

“Fuck me,” Jaehyun babbles, already forgetting his name, his identity, lost under the moonlight, convinced nothing else but this moment could possibly matter. With effort, he sits up when Johnny doesn’t move, hand reaching for Johnny’s cheek, reticence ignored, “I want you, Johnny. Please.”

In the space before Johnny speaks, Jaehyun relives the stutter in his chest when their eyes first met, lured by some impalpable desire to stagger into the arms of just a stranger with a toying wry smile, everything else be damned. All at once, Jaehyun returns to the morning after, waking with a gasp, cold and alone.

“You want me.”

Johnny says it like he can’t believe it, says it like he doesn’t know it’s exactly what Jaehyun wants when Jaehyun guides him to settle against the stack of pillows, says it like he thinks Jaehyun expected them to put their clothes back on and talk of nothing but the city’s streetlights.

Jaehyun retrieves the bottle of lube, crawling over Johnny’s thighs and watching gleefully when a dumbfounded expression practically embeds itself in Johnny’s face. He pulls at Johnny’s boxer briefs until they’re off and dropped somewhere to the ground, easily forgotten. Pulling back to delight in the revelation of Johnny’s very naked self, Jaehyun admires with his eyes and the tips of his finger until Johnny endures it no more, bringing a hand up to Jaehyun’s jaw, thumb pressed tenderly to Jaehyun’s lower lip.

Jaehyun obliges, taking Johnny’s thumb between his lips, sucking dutifully. Johnny moans at the sight, other hand everywhere, running along Jaehyun’s sides and thighs, the small curve of his ankle, eyes never once leaving Jaehyun’s face. Jaehyun does well to please, undulating his hips leisurely against Johnny’s very blatant desire, every glide coursing electricity just beneath the surface of his skin.

It becomes very apparent that Jaehyun is without question able to finish himself off again, rutting against Johnny and sucking lewdly on Johnny’s thumb; he jerks his head away to break the trance, sitting back against Johnny’s thighs long enough to grapple for the bottle of lube.

“Do you want me to–”

Jaehyun doesn’t grace him with an answer. He coats two fingers and rises to his knees, left palm fixed against Johnny’s chest; he dips forward to kiss Johnny, open-mouthed and messy, teeth clacking in a battle of dominance. Jaehyun breaks the kiss when he breaches himself, forehead pressed to Johnny’s, breathing in the broken moan Johnny whimpers, Jaehyun’s name a plea more than anything.

Johnny’s hands are on his ass immediately, bruising grip kneading a pleasurable sting that spurs Jaehyun to stretch himself quickly, too impatient to consider the ache that will definitely make an appearance tomorrow morning. His arm tires not long after the tip of his ring finger brushes against the smooth bump nested deep in him, choking through a moan ripped from the back of his throat.

“Yes,” he tells Johnny, who rips the condom packet open and rolls it on at top speed, urgency evident. Jaehyun wipes his fingers on the sheets and cares not for the stain it leaves, leaning against Johnny’s shoulders and angling himself where Johnny meets him with the first sweet, _sweet_ push that makes them both groan.

The stretch burns but Jaehyun _loves_ it, legs quivering as he adjusts on every inch he sinks down on, fuller than the last time he’d so eagerly taken Johnny.

Johnny kisses him, soft and sweet and at a time so inappropriately appropriate.

“I’ve missed you,” he admits into the kiss, swallowing Jaehyun’s fire and staining it with his dulcet tones, “I’ve missed you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun falters for a second, heart clenching at Johnny’s words, at his candor. He swivels his hips slowly, adjusting to the girth, focused on the fullness he’s missed, wrapped around Johnny in a tight heat. Jaehyun presses his fingers harshly into Johnny’s shoulders, eyes screwed shut as he gasps through the pleasure.

“Me too,” Jaehyun says eventually, briefly and all too late. He keeps his eyes closed, afraid to see the fervor he knows is in Johnny’s gaze, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Since we,” Johnny is groaning, spoilt by Jaehyun’s heat, “I haven’t with–anyone else–since we–since that night–”

Jaehyun blushes to his hairline, “Me neither.”

“And I wondered,” Johnny murmurs, “if you did. Miss me.”

“I did,” Jaehyun sighs, gradually finding a rhythm that makes him shiver with every push, “I did miss you, I thought about you I just–” he can’t think right now, why are they even talking at a time like this? “I just–don’t know–”

Johnny reaches for Jaehyun’s cheek, touch so gentle it actually surprises Jaehyun. He dares to open his eyes again, breath hitching when Johnny watches him like he’s a drink of water in a desert dryer than the Sahara, “Don’t know what?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, biting on his lip to keep a litany of curses from spilling free. He rides Johnny for all he can, breath wrenched from his lungs when Johnny cants his hips earnestly, the angle too sweet to be real. It has Jaehyun crying out, lifting himself in a sorry attempt to run away again. He places Johnny’s hands on his hips and bounces slowly, teeth clenching when Johnny starts to fuck up into him, every thrust a kiss Jaehyun swears never to forget.

His name is a prayer on Johnny’s lips, whispered and worshipped, shudders sweeping across Jaehyun’s skin, overwhelming and a rush like nothing ever. Jaehyun folds in to kiss Johnny, the temptation too great to pass, whimpering as he feels his thighs start to shake. His hips stutter on a particularly hard thrust and Jaehyun flinches away on reflex, Johnny slipping out of him.

Jaehyun cries aloud, the loss almost painful, slumping against Johnny’s chest and hiding his face in Johnny’s neck, embarrassed for a second. He moans when Johnny slips a finger between his cheeks and rubs along the puckered skin, sensitive. Without wasting a breath, he tugs hard to have Johnny rolled over him, satisfied when he’s trapped between Johnny’s arms.

Belatedly, Jaehyun realizes it’s the first he’s seeing Johnny like this.

“Should I–”

“Yes,” Jaehyun says. He winds his hands around Johnny’s neck, pulling the taller boy closer, desire nearly losing out the shameless need to have Johnny close, “Please.”

It’s different, this time. This time, Jaehyun watches Johnny’s brows furrow when he pushes in, watches Johnny’s lips part in a soft exhale when he’s finally seated, watches Johnny eye him like it’s the first they’re locking eyes, like it’s a dream they know they want, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

Johnny sets the pace slow, an excruciating pace, grinning when Jaehyun whines, when Jaehyun steals kisses between thrusts, when Jaehyun tries to lift his hips to help. It’s intimate, the slide of their bodies, the kisses so poorly aimed, the hearts desperate to claw free, and Jaehyun can’t think to compare it to anything he’s ever felt before.

“More,” Jaehyun whispers against Johnny’s lips, pushing his fingers into Johnny’s hair, lifting his hips, “Harder.”

Johnny huffs, pausing a moment to kiss Jaehyun before rising to his knees, settling above Jaehyun, naked resolve on his face. He angles one of Jaehyun’s legs over his shoulder, head tilting to the side when Jaehyun moans at the stretch.

“Johnny, please _just_ –”

“I’m going to go hard,” Johnny murmurs. Like a warning.

Thinking about it has Jaehyun salivating. He places a hand on Johnny’s side, the other over where Johnny’s hand is on his thigh, nodding weakly when Johnny waits.

The sound of skin on skin is downright indecent and Jaehyun is thankful he doesn’t have neighbors. Johnny hits his prostate in a single thrust, slamming forward with enough force to have the bed shake beneath them. He angles himself perfectly, tip gliding over the soft spot with every roll of the hips, drawing stars on the ceiling and kindling a fire big enough to burn the building down.

Jaehyun clenches around Johnny, driven close to sobs with Johnny looming over him, smothering him in nothing but–

“Kiss me.”

Johnny assents, not relenting on his thrusts even as he dips forward to kiss Jaehyun. Jaehyun is less graceful, locking Johnny in place and taking all Johnny offers, biting on Johnny’s lip, sucking on Johnny’s tongue, panting hotly against Johnny’s cheek. The sheets under his back is damp with sweat, clinging on Jaehyun the way he’s clinging to Johnny, afraid he might let Johnny slip away again.

“ _Jaehyun_ ,” he hears Johnny hiss, muscles contracting with every thrust, more art than human. Johnny’s hair bounces as he moves and Jaehyun longs to cradle it close to his chest. Johnny breathes heavily, taking the oxygen from Jaehyun’s lungs, “Jesus–I–”

Jaehyun sobs when he comes, blood singing, paralyzed with pure bliss. Johnny groans when Jaehyun tightens around him, stilling on a hard thrust, finishing in Jaehyun. He lets Jaehyun’s leg fall to the bed, going on his elbows to hover over Jaehyun, accepting the kiss Jaehyun gives freely. He moves his hips only when Jaehyun wraps his legs around Johnny’s waist, hooking his ankles together and nudging, taking them gently down from their high.

Jaehyun rocks lazily against Johnny, placating himself with small aftershocks that Johnny kisses him through. He’s satisfied to stay like that until the condom is itching, and he reluctantly lets Johnny go. There’s a small voice in Jaehyun’s head that wants to have Johnny bare the next time they lie together, but Jaehyun ignores it and watches as Johnny shuffles off the bed for the en suite, ass sculpted for the museums.

He welcomes Johnny back with open arms, idly dragging his fingers along wherever he can reach, letting Johnny run a damp hand towel over him. The action is nostalgic, leaving butterfly kisses along Johnny’s thigh and calves as he lays, pleasantly lazy. In a far-off thought, he wonders how it would feel to have this on a Sunday morning, the warm glow of sunlight instead of the wan serenity of moonlight. If he would still let himself laze around, relishing in Johnny’s touches, in Johnny’s kisses, in Johnny’s presence.

Jaehyun takes issue when Johnny tries to pull away. He rises to kiss Johnny hard, hand circling Johnny’s wrist. Johnny kisses back and understands, dropping the towel on the carpeted floor and slides under the covers when Jaehyun pulls them free.

Jaehyun just about purrs, securing a spot in Johnny’s arms, cheek pillowed on Johnny’s chest. The boldness is new and favored; Johnny cuddles him close and presses his lips to Jaehyun’s hair, tangling their legs together under the comforter.

Johnny whispers something, but it’s lost to the moonlight, Jaehyun on the brink of surrendering to slumber. He hums, then relaxes, finally allowing the night to end, snug and safe in Johnny’s embrace.

Jaehyun knows he’s not alone when he wakes this time. The door to his room is left ajar and Johnny’s shirt is still on the floor. Robotically, he sits up, wincing despite already anticipating the ache around his hips. With a quick survey, he spots Johnny’s phone by the white quartersawn oak dresser, along with his black watch and a thin, tangerine leather wallet lying beside it.

_He’s still here._

It’s Jaehyun’s first thought. He can’t stop the unadulterated _joy_ that courses his veins, the gentle bloom of sweetness in his chest, the corners of his lips threatening to lift into a smile. Marigold sunlight shines steadily into the room, coloring last night over with unbridled radiance, reviving the luminesce of last night. 

The bed still smells of Johnny.

Jaehyun’s second thought comes crashing with his third, fourth, and fifth. They come in rapid succession, extinguishing the fuzzy feeling from his chest, wiping the smile from his face, draining his body of his soul and returning it to The Fates. He can’t bring himself to think of the thoughts he wished for, the wishes that’d been in his head so briefly, so chastely; it doesn’t feel real, nothing does.

He snatches a pair of pajama shorts from his chest of drawers and wrangles them on, nearly falling over in his haste. He’s a foot out the door before he rethinks it, making a detour to freshen up in the en suite, going through the motions without pause. With wet hands, he runs them through his hair to make sense of the up and out angles they insist on taking on, ink-black stark against pale fingers.

Jaehyun has to stop himself from running at least twice, moving haltingly across the cool hardwood floors, wrangling some sense of composure into his frame. He takes a deep breath before rounding the corner, not quite expecting to find Johnny… cooking.

Shirtless.

And cooking.

Cooking and shirtless. 

Johnny doesn’t look at all out of place, a pair of chopsticks in his right hand and the handle to a saucepan in his left, head nodding along to a soft tune he’s humming. The muscles in his shoulders–broad, so very _broad_ –are defined, hypnotic when Johnny moved, so tempting to touch; Jaehyun snubs the desire to have them under his palms again.

There are eggs in the pan and a couple bacon slices already on two porcelain plates, all of which Jaehyun didn’t even know existed in his kitchen. There’s a glass cupboard of fine china–most of which are from Madam Jung’s personal collection–and a few sets of crystalline wine glasses from Riddel, but those were barely ever taken down either. Though, to be fair, it _is_ the first in a long time he’s seeing the kitchen be used for what it’s for.

Mrs. Shin is going to think he’s lost it.

“Good morning.”

Johnny looks at Jaehyun as if he were a cat stuck under a car that needed coaxing or a kitty snack to get out. He tilts his head to the side, hair bouncing a little as he does, a kind smile lifting his lips.

Jaehyun goes like he’s being summoned, letting his legs float him over to where Johnny stands, grin widening at Jaehyun’s keenness. He turns around to turn the electric stove off, then swivels back to extend a hand towards Jaehyun’s waist, smoothly pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s sweet, the kiss. Jaehyun drinks Johnny in and finds immediate comfort in the warmth of Johnny’s chest, fitting once again perfectly in Johnny’s arms. He tilts his head away to look at Johnny, eyes hovering over the prominent dip of his cupid’s bow, then steals a chaste kiss before shying away.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Johnny says, gesturing to the eggs and bacon, toast in the toaster, and the fresh brew of grounded _Seven Seeds_ beans in a cream-colored SMEG drip-coffee machine. He rests his hand on Jaehyun’s hip, thumb sneaking under the hem to gently brush against the bone there, “I wanted to make you breakfast.”

Jaehyun blinks at him. No one’s ever cooked him breakfast before; sure, there were chefs at the Jung Residence that knew Jaehyun’s preferences on the backs of their hands, but never has someone–more so someone Jaehyun has known for a collective forty-eight hours– _made_ him breakfast.

Johnny reads him like an open book, “Is this…?”

Jaehyun shakes his head first to dismiss it, unable to speak, voice a lump in his throat. He untangles himself from Johnny but doesn’t stray far, pouring coffee into two mugs, mind deliquesced along with it. Johnny lets him be, returning to fry the remaining eggs on the counter. Jaehyun sets the mugs on the island and goes to rummaging, effectively locating the sugar cube bowl along with a pair of small wooden tongs kept under the lid neatly.

“Sugar?”

Johnny plates two sunny side eggs on each plate, “No, thank you.”

 _No sugar_ , Jaehyun thinks. For some reason, he pegged Johnny to have a sweet tooth. He pops two cubes into his own mug, realizing belatedly that he doesn’t have yet the energy to source for a stirrer.

Johnny brandishes a teaspoon out of thin air, holds it out wordlessly. 

Jaehyun ignores the serendipitous coincidence, taking it with a quiet _Thank you_ , but Johnny is gone from his side at once, busy with toasts and eggs and bacon. The sugar cubes clink around and Jaehyun takes a sip only when they dissolve completely, smacking his lips at the persistent bitterness.

Breakfast is served and Johnny manages to find two sets of forks and knives, parking himself on the other side of the island’s corner, adjacent to Jaehyun’s right. 

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says, louder this time, “for breakfast.”

Johnny simply smiles, keeping his gaze down and cutting his toast into two, and Jaehyun finds himself frantic, submerged in the need to have Johnny look at him. He tries to fight it, tries to focus on the bleed of canary as the yolk breaks, but minutes tick by and Johnny still hasn’t looked up, hasn’t said a word.

The stillness that comes with silence is unnerving.

Jaehyun sets his knife down with a sharp _clank_ , reaching over for Johnny’s elbow, a wordless request. Johnny doesn’t abide, but he does stop, toast and bacon hovering mid-air. There’s static for a moment, then Jaehyun is pushing Johnny’s arm out of the way, enough to have Johnny look up.

Jaehyun takes what he wants and he kisses Johnny, hesitant at first. He’s relieved when Johnny kisses him back, butterflies fluttering free by the tips of his fingers. Johnny drops his fork and toast to pull Jaehyun close, holding him the way he knows Jaehyun loves. He kisses Jaehyun deeply, some clandestine sentiment poured earnestly into it, and Jaehyun so readily accepts, holding Johnny dear.

He pushes up against Johnny, thinking up a plan to be taken again; bed or island or not at all even, Jaehyun doesn’t care. He winds his arms around Johnny’s neck, sighing into the kiss and wishing the moment would last forever, wishing it could be kept in a bottle and savored.

Only when his lungs burn does Jaehyun pull away, breathing heavily, chest moving against Johnny’s. He kisses along Johnny’s jaw and moves up to the lobe of Johnny’s ear, feeling Johnny’s hands heavy on his hips–

“Jaehyun.”

–but the stiffness in his voice is ice down Jaehyun’s shirt. Jaehyun tilts away and startles at the impassiveness he sees, immediately stepping away and placing a wedge between them.

“Sorry, it’s just–” Johnny licks his lips, “I can’t read you.”

Jaehyun considers that very carefully. He slowly retreats to his side of the corner, waits for Johnny to say more.

“I mean, because I thought, since we–last night–” Johnny laughs. It sounds a little off. He runs a hand through his hair, smile small when he says, “I don’t do this often.”

It’s déjà vu.

Jaehyun recalls the thought vividly, _We’re not on the same page._

Ah.

The air around them is devoid of warmth. Jaehyun is cold all over; where his hands are on the concrete top, where his feet are on wood floors, where his heart is shriveled up at the bottom of his ribcage.

_Right._

“There doesn’t have to be a definition,” Johnny tacks on. He fiddles with his fork, intently inspecting its tines, “I just… would like to know. What this is. What it could be.” And a little quietly, “You already know how I feel about you.”

Oh.

Jaehyun clears his throat and straightens his shoulders, stealing what’s left of his nerves to say, “I don’t date.” He corrects himself, “Relationships. Or dating. I don’t do either.”

The yolk on his plate looks disgusting but Jaehyun focuses on it, refusing to look at Johnny. Refusing to know if it’s dejection or if it’s surprise or if it’s indifference that crosses Johnny’s expression, he refuses to lose himself to it.

Because Jaehyun knows. He’s a fairly attractive guy, he’s been asked out a couple of times, he _knows_ that the majority of people–don’t understand. They don’t understand the aversion to commitment, they don’t understand the timidity against risks, they don’t understand the _fear_ of loving and losing.

Jaehyun knows too much, thinks too much.

He’s swimming in an internal monologue of justifications and excuses when he realizes the very real and likely possibility that this could be the last time Johnny stands before him.

Jaehyun tells the bacon slices, “But it’s not like I want you to go.” He wishes the words would just work this time, “It’s just that I–I don’t–this isn’t–”

“It’s okay, Jaehyun.” Johnny speaks lowly, and in Jaehyun’s peripheral, he sees Johnny’s slender fingers return to spreading butter on toast, “I understand.” He spreads the butter thinly, slowly, speaking as the butter melts, “I’d still like to… at least be friends with you.”

 _Friends_. _What does that mean?_ Jaehyun wants to ask, but really, he doesn’t. Instead, he looks to Johnny, the frost around his heart melting away, “Really?”

_Why?_

Johnny takes a bite of his toast and chews thoughtfully. With a shrug, “I did just move here… It wouldn’t hurt to make another friend.” He glances at Jaehyun, corners of his lips lifting into a hesitant smile, “We’ve fumbled up becoming friends, haven’t we?”

Jaehyun agrees, though he doesn’t know by how much. He licks his lips, unsure, but smiles anyway. Johnny grins around a mouthful of eggs, and there’s nothing in his eyes Jaehyun can pick apart, so he shovels a bacon slice into his mouth and washes the grease away with a big gulp of coffee.

Its bitterness loses to the lingering taste of Johnny on his tongue; Jaehyun finds it hard to stomach the lackluster end to their morning together. 


	6. interlude ii

It starts with a text.

Jaehyun had recommended Libre’s, the café not too far away from JHQ, and Johnny had gone on a Wednesday morning. As proof, he sent Jaehyun a picture of a coffee cup with a sleeve, Libre’s signature light-blue, his black watch recognizable around his wrist.

_Thanks for the rec,_ the text read. _It’s pretty good!_

“What are you smiling at?” Taeyong had asked. He was by JHQ to hang out–or more so to make sure Jaehyun hadn’t dissolved into the pile of growing paperwork on his desk. Casually draped over the juniper green couch in Jaehyun’s office, his hair flopped to the side when he turned to squint at where Jaehyun sat behind a grand, cherry wood desk.

Jaehyun returned the text with a suggestion for Johnny to try the brownies too, _They’re known for them!_

He locked his phone and placed it face down on his desk, “Nothing.”

And it’s effortless, the friendship. Johnny liked to text and Jaehyun didn’t mind the occasional pings on his phone. He’d get them in meetings and events: a photograph of the picturesque scenery wherever Johnny’s adventures took him to or a fluffy dog Johnny happened to see along the streets or a good coffee place Johnny managed to score. They felt like a breath of fresh air, a pause in his days where he could just take a step back and–breathe. 

_My view_ , Jaehyun had once sent a quick snap of the gray cityscape out the window of the fifty-second floor, a reply to when Johnny was out on some morning hike near Namsan. His fingers moved fast against the screen, _It sadly isn’t as nice as yours._

Johnny’s reply was a selfie with the seraphic scenery behind him, grin Cheshire, _Agreed._

It comes as a pleasant surprise when one day, Johnny mentions needing a couple of hours to kill in the city. Over some hole-in-the-wall pizzeria Johnny insists has five-stars on Naver, they share a pepperoni pizza meant to feed four and Jaehyun learns that Johnny does indeed have a job.

“But it’s not really a job,” Johnny shrugs.

The Walker Gallery on 70th belongs to the Suhs. It’s a modern art museum, a venturesome project spearheaded by Johnny’s father, who believes in the importance of embracing and preserving art of all forms. The upper levels of the gallery hold pieces the Suhs have collected over the years–as well as a few generous contributions from family friends–and the lower levels are kept as exhibition halls, meant to showcase the work of young artists, an incentive and opportunity for initiation and growth.

“I just help around where they need me to,” Johnny insists.

Jaehyun eats and listens, absorbing whatever Johnny lays on the table. After, when Johnny asks if the pizza’s good, Jaehyun nods. Frankly, he thinks all pizza tastes the same, but Johnny’s eyes light up when he nods so Jaehyun swallows the rock of pepperoni in his throat and smiles.

Johnny pays and tells Jaehyun he can cover for their next lunch together.

Jaehyun takes a long drink from his glass.

If Jeno were any surprised at Jaehyun’s new habit of taking lunch outside the office, he didn’t show it. And if he had any inclination that these lunches were accompanied by a tall man who waited conspicuously around JHQ’s lobby on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, Jeno didn’t show it either.

_And_ as it turns out, Johnny was outright lying when he said he’d only managed to make a couple of new friends after his move. Walking down the streets of Seoul with Johnny was like walking down Main Street with Mickey Mouse; that is, if Mickey Mouse knew the name of the uncle manning the fish cake stand or the auntie selling red bean pastries around the corner.

It’s only after their third lunch that Jaehyun realizes Johnny could quite possibly know Seoul better than he does. Between empty soup houses in quiet alleyways and charming dumpling joints tucked between provisions stores and grocers with fresh produce, Johnny knew them all. It seemed like he knew them better than off the back of his hand too, on a first-name basis with more people than Jaehyun could count.

It’s an… unnamable feeling, watching Johnny saunter through buildings and over paths Jaehyun’s never taken, never bothered to learn, never bothered to explore. The looming walls and uneven cobblestone always has Jaehyun lost in thought, but then Johnny is calling out to him from paces ahead, pointing excitedly towards whatever restaurant he’s found this time, and everything is bright again.

Being friends with Johnny is easy.

Their plans never feel like plans, are never phrased like _plans_. There’re no obligations, no definitions, no pressure. And It’s fluent, their routine that’d come about so naturally: Jaehyun’s phone would ping with a text from Johnny at around one in the afternoon, a call for lunch. If Jaehyun weren’t in a meeting, they’d go; if Jaehyun were, they’d reschedule for dinner if time allowed for it. Most of the time, it did, and Johnny seemed more than happy to be by JHQ’s at eight.

When Jaehyun steps out of the elevator and their eyes meet, Johnny smiles.

Jaehyun never asks about Johnny’s friends, never wonders why Johnny never has lunch with them instead. He thinks to, early on, but decides against it. They’re friends too anyway, and if Johnny wants to have lunch together at places with phenomenal kalguksu and the best mandu Jaehyun’s ever had, then Jaehyun will go.

It’s a good meal and good company; no reason to turn Johnny down.

**Johnny Suh** [22:34:56] [Image attached]

**Johnny Suh** [22:35:02] It sure does get lonely in Seoul.

Jaehyun rolls his eyes when the picture of Johnny pouting pops up on his phone, lying between charcoal-colored sheets, pillow hugged against his chest. Between spending time with his mother, helping out at The Walker Gallery, and going on his own adventurous photoshoots, Johnny still manages to find time to lounge in bed, even while juggling what seems to be a hundred social gatherings on his plate.

Jaehyun takes a quick video to encapsulate the sheer disarray his desk is–papers strewn across the top, manilla folders and contracts held together by binder clips piled around his chair, a sort of fortress Jeno’s helped him build with the amount of work they have to go through, several cups of half-drunken coffee from Libre’s Jaehyun’s had to power through the day.

**Johnny Suh** [22:45:05] I know a good nacho place nearby.

**Johnny Suh** [22:45:35] They close at two.

It’s how Jaehyun finds himself sitting across a diner table from Johnny at fifteen minutes to midnight, poking through two nacho bowls with a fork. He’d sent Jeno home at eight–despite the younger boy’s insistence to stay and help–and had finally called it a day after going through the Busan contract for a new hotel set to be built next year.

The conversation is easy, relaxed. Johnny asks about Jaehyun’s wish to own a dog and shares a few memories of a dog named Daisy he used to own back in Chicago.

“Will you get another dog?” Jaehyun scrapes some guacamole and tomatoes onto a chip, “Here?”

“I think I might,” Johnny hums. He pushes at a tomato bit threatening to fall off Jaehyun’s chip, “It’d be nice to bring them around the city, to Grand Park and all that.”

“It would,” Jaehyun agrees. He’s been religiously sifting through adoption sites and forums, waiting for the best time to get a furry companion, hoping it would be soon. So far, he’s found a few dogs and puppies he thought would be a good addition to his life, most of them too cute to resist.

“You could bring it to work with you, couldn’t you?” Johnny asks, when Jaehyun mumbles about waiting to have a little more time to care for a puppy. “Have them parked in a corner of your office?”

“I could,” Jaehyun says. He bites off a corner of his chip, “But I don’t know, I don’t think I could have a dog right now.”

That makes Johnny look up, “Why not?”

Jaehyun busies himself with a new chip, “I’m busy, I guess, with work. And stuff. I’m not–at the right… point. In life, I guess.”

Jaehyuns holds his breath, expecting the air to solidify around them, expecting tar to seep from his palms and gush across the table. He expects the idea of talking about work to render him useless, to freeze up just like he does whenever the topic of the Jungs surface, whenever the question of his father’s retirement is brought up over dinner. Jaehyun expects Johnny to frown and wonder, expects Johnny to cock a brow, face contorted with confusion.

None of that happens.

Johnny only smiles, nods. “Well, if you ever do want to get a puppy, I know a couple of guys who does some pro bono cases for a local adoption shelter, so y’know… If you’re interested.”

For a full moment, Jaehyun doesn’t know what to say. He malfunctions, unable to comprehend the outpour of emotion merited by a _choice_ being presented to him. It’s hardly the first time he’s ever been riddled by a dilemma–Jeno brings him multiple choices of tea-time pastries every afternoon at four, giving Jaehyun first pick in a box of six from the French bakery near JHQ; but, a decision as large as this, Jaehyun hasn’t considered ever simply _getting_ a dog.

What would his father think of him setting aside the company to care for a puppy? Would his mother think a dog an unsuitable addition to where her cherished vases sit in The Valentine Suite?

Would the dog be happy to have Jaehyun?

Would he even be enough?

The best Jaehyun can do is smile and reach for his beer, the sharp tang tasting like pennies picked off a winter’s sidewalk.


	7. with wax melted, i'd meet the sea

**Johnny Suh** [19:23:31] Ever heard of the Everglades?

**Johnny Suh** [19:23:52] The bar. Not the wetlands in Florida.

**Johnny Suh** [19:24:10] It’s two blocks from the office :-)

The receptionists are staring at Johnny. They whisper behind small hands, giggling to themselves as Johnny muses at the large, bronze statue set in the middle of JHQ’s lobby, surrounded by fresh flowers and the occasional offering. It’s a cast metal sculpture of Jaehyun’s late-great-grandfather, placed upon a cream marble pedestal that held a plaque detailing his founding efforts.

Jaehyun silently acknowledges the memorial, as he does every morning on his way in to work.

Johnny catches him crossing the porcelain tiles, meeting Jaehyun halfway with that lopsided smile of his. A chunky, waffle-textured knit scarf is around his neck, in a deep maroon that complements the darling tan of Johnny’s skin, thick and perfect for the early November winter. He’s bundled nicely in a wool overcoat and a pair of dark washed jeans, sneakers squeaking mutedly against the polished floors.

They never speak much in the lobby, their greeting kept simple with an exchange of grins. Jaehyun always leads the way out onto the main street and Johnny unfailingly falls a step behind him, close on Jaehyun’s heels.

It’s only when they’re hit with the first gust of winter’s air does Johnny say, “Cold?”

Jaehyun shakes his head but buttons his coat, ignoring the way Johnny’s gaze lingers on the tips of his ears, a blushing pink from the blustering winds. He tucks his hands into his coats and sighs when they’re met with hand-warmers; Jeno, sweet as he is, must’ve snuck them in there for Jaehyun before he left.

Johnny looks over the top of Jaehyun’s head, “It’s this way.”

Jaehyun nods and lets Johnny take the lead. They fall into step easily, elbows and shoulders bumping into one another as they draw close and closer in search of warmth. The wind makes it hard for small talk but Jaehyun finds it nice anyway, the quiet with Johnny. Johnny seems to think the same, gaze focused instead on street signs and passing skyscrapers.

At the crosswalk, Jaehyun’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

He thinks to ignore it, predicting it to be Jeno with some sort of office mishap, but when the buzzes continue to persist, Jaehyun caves. The buzzing, however, turns out to be a call from Taeyong instead. An obnoxiously close-up picture of just Taeyong’s eyes, nose, and lips fill the screen of Jaehyun’s phone, light bright and harsh against the twilight’s blue hour. 

Jaehyun looks at the sound of the crosswalk light turning green. As soon as he does, Johnny’s hand is curling around the crook of his elbow, tugging him gently away from the crowd of passersby.

“Hey, hyung.” Jaehyun presses the phone into his ear, holding onto Johnny’s coat as the taller leads them away from the evening herd, huddling them towards the vacant spots near a metro exit, “Hyung?”

“Frog. Third grade.”

Jaehyun pales. “What?”

“I need that favor right now,” Taeyong is hissing into the line. “Right now, Jaehyun. Where are you?”

“I’m–” Jaehyun blinks up at Johnny, who tilts his head in question. He gulps, “I’m–at the office. I’m about to go for dinner.”

“You’re having dinner with me,” Taeyong decides. Jaehyun doesn’t get to ask why, “And Doyoung. And Mark. You remember Mark, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun does. Words stumble in his mind, refusing to work fast enough to get out of whatever Taeyong’s planning, “I do, but hyung, I’m kind of–”

“The _frog_ , Jaehyun.” There’s chatter on the other end Jaehyun can’t make out, but Taeyong is back in no time, “We’re drinking tonight. Be there.”

The dial tone surfaces before Jaehyun can protest. He pulls it away from his ear and gapes at the darkened screen, still not quite processing the last thirty seconds.

“Is everything okay?”

“Er.”

Jaehyun doesn’t know where to start, but Johnny doesn’t rush him, brows pinched in concern. His hand is still light on Jaehyun’s elbow, and Jaehyun registers belatedly that he’s the same, holding onto Johnny’s sleeve. Awkwardly, Jaehyun retracts his hand, moving to run it through his hair instead.

“That was Taeyong hyung,” he says. “I–owe him a favor.” Jaehyun doesn’t know why he’s fumbling, “He wants me to have dinner with him tonight.”

Comprehension dawns and Johnny is nodding, “Ah.”

“But I’ll tell him I–”

Jaehyun’s phone buzzes in his hand.

**Lee Taeyong** [19:58:04] _Icarus_. https://goo.gl/maps/ejaugn9uh02j

**Lee Taeyong** [19:58:21] small bar on 31st @ 8:15

**Lee Taeyong** [19:58:24] BE THERE.

“It’s okay if you have to go, Jaehyun,” Johnny is already saying. His dimple deepens when Jaehyun wavers, “We can reschedule, it’s okay.”

The thing is, _I don’t want to reschedule_.

The thought is insistent and Jaehyun is typing up a reply.

**Jung Jaehyun** [19:59:02] I have dinner plans with Johnny.

Jaehyun locks his phone and says nothing, ignores the puzzled look on Johnny’s face. He hasn’t yet told Taeyong about Johnny–about the two nights they’ve had together and the wordless arrangement to never have another like it again–or the fact that he’s taken to seeing Johnny almost every other day now, the most he’s spent with another in a while.

It’s just– _easy_.

It’s the easiest thing Jaehyun’s ever done, being friends with Johnny. Everything clicks, everything is elementary; even when they’re bickering over ice cream or gelato for dessert, or over Fall Out Boy and Panic! At The Disco a parallel to the chicken and the egg debate, or over whether or not Atherton deserved to win The Great British Bake Off last year.

Jaehyun doesn’t even have to think about it, doesn’t even get to.

“It really is okay,” Johnny is saying just as Jaehyun’s phone pings,

**Lee Taeyong** [20:02:56] bring him.

“You _killed_ a frog?”

Jaehyun groans, dropping his head into his hands, “I did.” He sits up quickly, turning to glare at Johnny laughing, almost doubling over in a mix of amusement and befuddlement, “It was an accident! I was nine!”

“But–how?” Johnny takes his eyes off the road for a second, the city’s streetlights a twinkle in them, “What did you do to the poor thing?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Jaehyun grumbles, settling back into the onyx leather seats in a piteous attempt to take himself out of Johnny’s peripheral, “It was an accident, honestly.” Johnny hums, and Jaehyun props an elbow on the armrest, thumbing at the crimson stitches in the upholstery, “It escaped. We were all looking for it, and I was running… I didn’t see it jump out onto the garden path and well, I… stepped on it.”

“You _stepped_ –”

Johnny cackles, dissolving in a fit of laughter that has Jaehyun reconsidering agreeing to get into Johnny’s car tonight. He’s sat in what Johnny refers to as his _baby_ –a Tesla Model X in pearl white, one of the very few cruising the streets of Seoul–once or twice before, whenever Johnny’s dinner itinerary took them away from the city. Johnny’s good company, never quick to anger, hands always on the wheel, fingers tapping to whatever Jaehyun queues; it’s been a while since Jaehyun’s sat in the front too and he finds himself fond of it whenever he gets to now.

“It’s not funny,” Jaehyun sighs heavily, a part of him regretting ever admitting to it. He fiddles with the large display between them, sliding through Johnny’s playlist of a thousand songs, most of them he hasn’t yet heard. He queues a few tracks on a whim, “I felt really bad about it and I couldn’t get rid of its–”

“Its trampled carcass?”

“– _body_ ,” Jaehyun ignores him, “on my own, so Taeyong hyung had to help me. He didn’t tell anyone what I did.”

“Would anyone really have noticed?” Johnny hits the signal, braking smoothly as they approach a turn to the left, stopping before a crosswalk. He takes the chance to look at Jaehyun, who reluctantly does the same, glowering at the way the blinking lights of green illuminate Johnny’s broadening grin, “I mean, I’m assuming there wasn’t only a single frog in your backyard?”

Jaehyun closes his eyes and sinks lower into the seat, “It wasn’t just any frog. It was Taejin noona’s first frog.” Johnny dissolves into another round of giggles, but Jaehyun barrels through it, “She only had it for two days at that point.”

“Oh my god,” Johnny snickers, sides splitting as he makes the turn, his laugh a painful opus to Jaehyun’s ears, “This can’t be true–what did you tell her?”

“We told her it ran away,” Jaehyun confesses. He cringes inwardly at the memory of Taejin’s tears, devastated that Froggo (the frog) had abandoned her so quickly, distressed at the thought of being a terrible pet owner. Jaehyun sighs, “So I promised Taeyong hyung I’d return a favor for–”

“Disposing of incriminating evidence?”

“– _helping_ me out. He hasn’t asked for anything since then.”

“But he’s decided to cash in tonight.”

“Yes,” Jaehyun says.

“Icarus,” Johnny says suddenly. He points at the neon sign set precariously atop a few empty cartons, a flickering arrow pointing down towards a dark alley. Johnny inches the car forward and they peer down the unlit path, “We’re here.”

An unsettling feeling brews in Jaehyun’s chest as Johnny finds a parking spot not too far away. Whether it’s the daunting silhouettes leading up to Icarus or the inescapable dinner they’re about to have, Jaehyun doesn’t know.

“Sorry,” he apologizes anyway when they climb out of the car. Johnny shoots him a puzzled look, the Tesla locking automatically as he rounds the hood to meet Jaehyun, “About our–about ruining tonight’s dinner plans.”

“Nothing’s ruined, Jaehyun.” Johnny steps up onto the sidewalk, gaining inches over Jaehyun, “I haven’t seen Doyoung in ages either so,” he smiles, sweet, “it’d be great to finally see him again.”

Jaehyun nods, Johnny’s reassurance thankfully subduing the witch’s brew in his gut. Johnny leads the way through the haunting alley and Jaehyun does his best not to trip over any loose bricks. He looks over his shoulder out of habit, the porcelain white of the Tesla a halo at the end of the street.

Johnny peers into the bar through one of the stained glass windows before placing his hand on the rusted gold pull handle. A thrumming hum of guitar strings escapes when he pulls it open, gesturing for Jaehyun to head on in, “After you.”

The bar, at first sight, is small. There isn’t much other than a few sets of tables and chairs, a short counter by the entrance, and behind it, a makeshift door made up of linen that leads to what Jaehyun assumes is the kitchen. The place is dark too, lit only by a few rotating disco light machines placed in the corners, the shadows on the walls spotted in LED rainbows.

The cement floors are smooth under Jaehyun’s shoes–a pair of black Chelsea boots in leather–heels tapping lightly as they venture further in. As far as Taeyong’s recommendations go, Icarus seems to lie somewhere low on the luxury scale; behind Johnny, the door shuts with a wheeze and Jaehyun wonders if they have the right place.

“Over here!”

As it seems, they do.

Jaehyun glances at Johnny–for acknowledgment or approval or reassurance, he doesn’t know–before zigzagging through the unsurprisingly empty tables, schooling a polite smile when he’s within earshot of tonight’s dinner party.

“I’m so glad you made it!” Taeyong is getting out of his seat, scurrying over to yank Jaehyun into his arms. Jaehyun doesn’t struggle in Taeyong’s crushing hug, concern rising when Taeyong whispers low, “Thank you for coming.”

“And Johnny hyung’s here too!” Mark rises to meet Johnny for a half-handshake-half-high-five, motioning for Johnny to take the empty seat beside Doyoung, “How’ve you been man! Ooh–wait, did you get my text about that café on Sides Street?”

Jaehyun startles at his own surprise. He didn’t know Johnny to still be in contact with Mark; their brief encounter with the rising celebrity was months ago and Jaehyun hadn’t realized they’d exchanged numbers.

“Yes, I did and the pies were, as you said, phenomenal,” Johnny smiles, like he always does. He claps Doyoung’s shoulder in place of an actual greeting, turning back to Mark to ask, “Sorry, we’re a little late–traffic. Have you guys been waiting long?”

Jaehyun is tugged roughly to the other side of the rectangular table, Taeyong’s tiny hands shoving him down by the shoulders and onto the seat across Johnny. The table for the five of them is a tight fit–Jaehyun squished between Taeyong on his left and Mark to his right at the head of the table–but no one else seems to mind it, snug together with elbows bumping and knees knocking.

“No, no, no,” Mark says, waving dismissively. His hair is the brightest color in the room, a vibrant neon pink barely hidden by his olive green beanie, “We wrapped up at the studio like a half hour ago and got here like in fifteen?”

“Here’s the–”

“This is–”

The tension is palpable when both Taeyong and Doyoung reach for the menu between them. It’s been months since Jaehyun’d last seen Doyoung, at a press event they’d both coincidentally been invited to, but the singer still looks as elegant as ever, even without the help of industry’s premier stylists. The dark indigo of his jacket blends his lean frame into the shadows, betrayed only by the silver necklace around his neck. His sharp features are partially hidden by a navy baseball cap over his lilac-colored hair, but the pinks on his cheeks are evident.

In all the years Jaehyun’s known him, this is the first he’s seeing Doyoung so... distant.

“We got a couple of shots and most of the snacks on the menu for the table,” Mark is grinning, innocent to the growing tension. He carries the conversation single-handedly, “I didn’t hold back on the wings since, well–it _is_ a celebration tonight, right?”

Jaehyun shifts a little in his seat, taking the menu from Taeyong, who hasn’t moved in the last fifteen heartbeats. He lets his hands linger over Taeyong’s for a second longer, then clears his throat to ask, “Right. And what is it that we’re celebrating?”

Mark’s expression is a gem, “Hyung, you haven’t told them?”

The question is directed at Doyoung. He sits a little straighter, addressing Johnny and Jaehyun, “I’ve been offered a part in a new TV series.” The news, as good as it sounds, doesn’t seem to be good news, so Jaehyun holds his tongue. Doyoung goes on, “I’ve been briefed that it’s a small role, but it’s still tied to a sixth-month-long commitment.”

Johnny’s tone is light, “Six months?”

“It’s a historical series set in 18th century Beijing,” Doyoung explains reaching for his glass of water and holding it in his hands. The hanging pendant light casts a dark shadow under his eyes, “The production period’s an estimated six months right now with an undefined number of episodes, and the filming location’s set mostly in a province off Eastern China so you know–I’ll have to... move away for a bit.”

Jaehyun drops his gaze to the menu in front of him, suddenly unable to keep his head up. Under the table, Taeyong’s hands are in a tight grip, knuckles bone white. He wants to reach over and tell Taeyong to _breathe,_ but Jaehyun finds himself locked in a bind too.

_Doyoung’s… moving away?_

“It’s only six months, hyung!” Mark reaches across the table to pat Doyoung’s arm, “Plus, I’m sure you’ll be back all the time anyway–you’ll still release music in Korea, won’t you? There’s no way Mr. Lee’s going to agree to any contract that forbids you from making music!”

“Yeah, I guess,” Doyoung licks his lips, smiling tightly. Jaehyun feels the anxiousness seep into his bloodstream; the last time he’d seen Doyoung so tense was the last Christmas dinner he’d had with the Jungs and Lees, “It’s just–things will be different, won’t it? Not being in Seoul?”

“Hey, no, c’mon,” Johnny says, smacking Doyoung lightly with the flimsy menu, “It’s new, sure, but it’ll be a good thing, won’t it?”

True to form, Jaehyun feels lunch lurch in his throat.

“You were nervous about going on tour too the first time I met you,” Johnny carries on, “but that was a huge success, wasn’t it? You even did a couple of encore stops on the West Coast–the stadiums were so full; we couldn’t even get tickets to go see you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Doyoung doesn’t seem convinced but manages a smile when Johnny congratulates him, “Thank you, hyung.”

“Not to mention how exciting it’s going to be!” Mark is nodding vehemently, an inch away from climbing onto the table and shaking Doyoung’s shoulders, “I’ll come visit whenever I can so we can work on music in Beijing too!”

“You’ll definitely have to bring us around when we come visit,” Johnny adds.

“ _Yes,_ ” Mark sits back on his seat, attention fully on Johnny, “We should visit _together_!” He turns to Jaehyun, “Shouldn’t we, hyung?” He grins at Taeyong, “We could all go together, couldn’t we? It’d be a fun trip, wouldn’t it?”

Jaehyun nods weakly, breathing steadily through his nose to keep lunch from spewing free. Beside him, Taeyong is silent, invested greatly in the wooden tabletop. Jaehyun moves to shrug his jacket off, the heat stifling.

“We could,” Johnny says finally, a reassuring hand on Mark’s shoulder. “But let’s just think about celebrating tonight, shall we?”

It takes three rounds of Jägermeister for the tension in the air to ease up, four for Mark to order another two baskets of fries, and five for the friction to recede into nothing.

The bar’s almost filled by Jäger shot six, most parties in pairs or trios, chatting and laughing over roasted peanuts and towers of draft beer. A few of the patrons recognize Mark and Doyoung on their way in, but are bright enough to keep a distance, save indulging in a few furtive glances that don’t go unnoticed.

The music through the speakers is a mix of house and anything remixed from the top one hundred chart–including two of Doyoung’s singles they all _definitely_ crooned and sang horribly to, to the singer’s utmost embarrassment.

Jaehyun taps his foot to the captivating beat, lets his head nod lazily along. It’s been a while since he’s let himself drink, the addictive numbness a feeling he didn’t know he’d missed. And it’s all in good fun too now that the liquor’s alleviated the tightness that’d previously blanketed them; Jaehyun finds serenity, as ironic as it is with utter chaos around their table, some part of him wondering why they hadn’t done this sooner.

The conversation’s morphs from Mark’s ideas–on the demo Doyoung had played for him earlier in the studio today–into a relatively serious drunken discussion on the ultimate Pokémon starter. There’s yelling and arguing and _listen, wait–seriously, listen to me,_ and Jaehyun doesn’t even know how they got here; Mark and Doyoung making a strong argument against Taeyong, who doesn’t do much else but complain about Jaehyun and Johnny’s lack of opinion.

“I don’t know Pokémon,” Jaehyun sighs when Taeyong demands a reason for his silence. He searches through the basket of fries for crunchy ones, “I don’t even know what a peekaboo is.”

“ _Pikachu_ ,” Taeyong wails, thunking his head against the table. He only gets up when Doyoung clicks his tongue and pats Taeyong twice on the crown, “Pika _chu_ , Jaehyun, surely you know who Pikachu is. Haven’t you seen _Detective Pikachu?_ The movie? _”_

Jaehyun triumphs when he finds a slightly burnt fry. He remembers Taeyong asking him a question, “Huh?”

“You’re no help,” Taeyong scolds, shoving Jaehyun weakly. Switching targets, he glares at Johnny, “And you, new person, why don’t you like Pikachu?”

Johnny shakes his head, “I don’t really have an opinion.”

“You just don’t have one because you’re not drinking,” Taeyong accuses. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

They’re interrupted when a lithe barkeep with hair a sweet honey brown arrives with their seventh order of Jäger and chasers. Jaehyun notices it when Mark glances up, catching the eyes of their barkeep, the Jäger coloring his eyes with wonder; he hiccups very obviously when the boy sets it down, ducking his head the moment the glasses hit the table.

No one catches the exchange and Jaehyun doesn’t say a thing. Taeyong is raising his glass the moment it’s set down; Jaehyun does the same, fingertips cool when he picks it up, clinking his glass with Doyoung’s and Mark’s too, before slinging it back in a single fluid motion.

“Lord,” Mark groans, slamming his empty glass down just as Jaehyun is chasing his own with a gulp of orange juice. He fumbles for his Red Bull, taking a long swig. He groans again, “ _Lord_.” Swaying in his seat, he jabs Johnny in the shoulder and accuses, “Hyung, you know what, you _should_ be drinking! Who doesn’t drink at a celebration! Everyone does!”

“Yes, Mark,” Johnny says, not an ounce of annoyance in his voice. In fact, he’s smiling over his glass of iced water, “And who’ll care for you all later when you inevitably pass out?”

Taeyong groans loudly, “Boring!”

“He drove,” Jaehyun pipes up, but Taeyong’s already climbing over Jaehyun’s arms on the table for Johnny’s water, taking an obnoxiously loud sniff from it,

“Are you sure this isn’t vodka? It sure smells like vodka.”

“That smell’s coming from you,” Johnny says, sending both Doyoung and Mark into fits of giggles. He grins when Taeyong pouts, handing him a clean glass of iced water, “Drink, Taeyong, you haven’t in a–I mean _water,_ Taeyong, you haven’t had any in over a half-hour.”

And it’s after they’ve moved on to vodka cranberries that Mark is on his feet, hips rolling to the heavy timbre of Shakira’s _Hips Don’t Lie,_ still sipping on a beer through a straw _._ Taeyong’s determination to join in is fueled by the unfinished shot of Jäger in his left hand and his third vodka cranberry in his right, meeting Mark in the narrow space between their table and the next.

Jaehyun nearly falls over when Taeyong sidles up to him and screams for Jaehyun to get off his ass, rolling his eyes when Jaehyun refuses with ardor.

“You! Kim Doyoung!” Taeyong is yelling next, pointing at Doyoung who’d been quietly allowing things to unfold. He’d matched every drink Taeyong had taken, racing Jaehyun and Mark through Jägers and tequila. Taeyong finishes the drinks in his hands and beckons Doyoung to join them, “Get over here!”

Jaehyun expects Doyoung to decline–after all, their identities are no longer secret to tonight’s patrons–but Doyoung does go, slipping out of his chair and striding comfortably over to where Taeyong and Mark welcome him with open arms. It’s a sight to see, the blatant disregard for everything else around them, the smiles on their faces so plainly intoxicating.

“Aren’t you going to join them?”

Jaehyun takes a moment to register being spoken to. He blinks away from where Taeyong and Mark are seconds away from getting them all kicked out, and Johnny’s face comes into focus.

“I’d rather not,” Jaehyun says. His voice feels odd to hear, like he’s listening to a recording of himself on an astral plane, “And you?”

Johnny shakes his head, looking out to where the rest of their dinner party are bouncing on over to the makeshift dance floor, “That would be an embarrassing sight for the world to witness.”

“I doubt that,” Jaehyun mumbles, then thinks, _I’d like to see you dance._

Whoa.

Jaehyun stares into the drink in his hand, a mix too dark to be vodka, too light to be tequila. He hasn’t exactly been holding back tonight, too busy trying to navigate the night with some help from a little liquid courage.

“Oh ho,” Johnny laughs, allowing for Jaehyun’s subtle mental breakdown. He watches the others with a smile, turning back to Jaehyun with eyes brighter than stars, “I already know they’re going to be regretting this in the morning.”

Jaehyun laughs, mostly out of politeness.

“Will you be okay?” Johnny’s eyes flit from Jaehyun’s face to the glass in his hands.

“I’ll be fine,” Jaehyun says, just as he feels his senses start to slip away. He licks his lips, the motion enough to ground him for a moment more. He takes a sip to prove a point, “It’s just–been a while.”

Johnny nods, taking his word for it. He stretches his arms over his head, wincing a little before relaxing once more, “Ugh, maybe I _am_ too old to be up after eleven.”

“You’re not old,” Jaehyun says, doing his best to keep from swaying in his seat. He focuses on the bridge of Johnny’s nose, ignoring the worrying thought that he shouldn’t be seeing double right now, “Have you been busy?”

“A little,” Johnny sighs. He rests his elbows on the table and leans forward, wiping at the condensation on his glass, “There’s just been a lot of changes in the upcoming exhibitions, a couple of withdrawals from some of the independent artists we signed with.”

Jaehyun blinks, “What?”

Johnny glances up, the concern in his eyes and the smile on his lips telling a story of their own. He probably hasn’t quite seen Jaehyun so unraveled–not since the last time Johnny’d stayed over at The Valentine Suite.

“We’ve got a festive exhibition coming up,” Johnny explains, over the sound of an evocative bass to a Pitbull song Jaehyun hasn’t heard in years, “and an artist canceled their exhibit, so we’re scrambling to find a replacement.”

Jaehyun follows slowly, not quite understanding why he’s registering Johnny’s words a half-beat slower than he usually does.

It certainly isn’t because he’s completely focused on the way Johnny’s lips curve and round over vowels and consonants. It certainly isn’t because he’s entirely absorbed by the way the tips of Johnny’s fingers are sliding along the sides of his glass, gathering up beads of condensation. It certainly isn’t because he’s absolutely taken by the exhilarating scent of whatever cologne Johnny spritzed on, mixed with the demented memory of Johnny’s skin under his _tongue_.

Jaehyun glares at the rim of his glass, bewildered at the sheer impudence of his thoughts.

Even the heavens can’t save him now.

“Jaehyun?”

He looks up at the sound of his name, lost. Johnny tilts his head in question, a habit of his Jaehyun’s picked up over lunch and dinner runs. His hair falls to the side as he waits, never impatient with Jaehyun, never rushing, never hurrying.

“Why don’t you take their place?” Jaehyun suggests, surprising himself. Johnny considers it, “I mean, you take pictures, right?”

“I do,” Johnny says, laughing softly, like he were just as entertained about the lack of Jaehyun’s usual eloquence. He silently pushes a glass of water towards Jaehyun, nodding once when Jaehyun accepts it, “I don’t know… I might not even have pieces good enough for an exhibition.”

“All the pictures you take are beautiful.”

Johnny laughs it away, waving dismissively, “You’re just saying that.”

“The ones you send me really are,” Jaehyun insists. He doesn’t have a reason to say, “They’re beautiful and I–feel really happy when I see them.” There’s a prickle on the tips of his ears, “I mean, I’m in awe. When I see them. The photos.”

Something flashes in Johnny’s eyes.

Jaehyun doesn’t know if he’s making it up, but he feels it in his chest, a drop of tar in a field of daisies. But it’s gone when Johnny shakes his head, tracing the rings on the table, “Well, thank you.” He looks up to shoot Jaehyun a rueful smile, “I’ll think about it.”

Jaehyun drinks, ice cubes a sting on his lips; Johnny watches him for a beat too long.

“What?” Jaehyun touches his cheek, “Do I have something on my face?”

Johnny shakes his head, effortlessly shifting the focus away, “How’s work on your end?” and he never bothers hiding, “Is your dad still on your heels?”

There were six bottles of soju between them the first time he’d told Johnny about work. About all the things he thought he could only go to Taeyong for, about taking over a conglomerate holding thousands of lives, about the possibility and probability of failure. It’d been a long day at work–ushered from meeting to meeting throughout, with only minutes between them for Jaehyun to catch his breath–so when Johnny suggested samgyeopsal and soju, Jaehyun didn’t need to think twice.

Johnny listened, rapt with attention as Jaehyun mumbled through a spiel on his father’s insistence and his own onslaught of fears tagged to the idea of taking his _rightful_ place. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t question Jaehyun’s fears, not when even Jaehyun thought some of his ramblings were pointless. He didn’t know Jaehyun like Taeyong did, and yet–Johnny understood him all the same.

“You’ve every right to be worried,” was Johnny’s reply. Jaehyun blinked slowly, “But you can’t be afraid to be successful, Jaehyun,” Johnny smiled, an outpour of unmitigated warmth in a single expression, “You’re too good for that.”

Jaehyun shakes his head and takes a long sip, washing the memory away with the sick blend in his glass.

“This is impossible.”

Jaehyun is apologetic, but not enough to be helping. He leans his weight against the streetlight, metal ice cold on his cheek, the pinch of frost sufficient to keep him upright. Sluggishly, he wraps his arms around the streetlight, needing to secure that extra support before his legs officially give out.

And in retrospect, they shouldn’t have had those last two rounds of Mystery Shots Mark insisted they were sober enough to handle, because they clearly were not. Taeyong’d somehow convinced the barkeep to set up the karaoke system he’d found stashed behind the counter–while he was simultaneously trying to grab an entire bottle of Jack Daniel’s to drink from directly–and it was song after song and drink after drink until the clock hit three in the morning.

“No, no, no,” Taeyong is babbling, struggling weakly in Doyoung’s arms, his back to Doyoung’s chest. Doyoung staggers when Taeyong thrashes, but the concentration on his face is commendable, trying his hardest to keep them both from falling face-first into the snow. Taeyong whines, “No, no, _no_!”

Johnny turns the corner then, appearing with Mark barely conscious on his back. He unlocks the Tesla quickly and is careful in unloading Mark into the backseat, ignoring Taeyong’s insistence on returning to the bar for _just a couple of more songs!_ Easily, he tucks Mark’s limbs into place, speaking low as Mark continues to gurgle.

“Yes, Mark,” Jaehyun hears Johnny whisper calmly, soothingly when Mark panics, albeit feebly, “It’s the seatbelt, Mark–yes, it’s Johnny, it’s just me.”

“Johnny,” Mark babbles, lifting his arms weakly, then dropping them again, “Johnny?”

“Yes,” Johnny says, clipping Mark’s seatbelt in. He checks once more that it isn’t caught anywhere, “You alright there?”

Mark only groans, but it sounds like affirmation so Johnny climbs out of the backseat.

Jaehyun has a bit of decency left in him to feel embarrassed when Johnny glances at his sorry state, but he doesn’t move from his spot, too comfortable by the streetlight. In a blur, he thinks Johnny is reaching for him, and there’s a split second where Jaehyun lifts his hand to take Johnny’s–before Johnny turns away, grabbing instead onto one of Taeyong’s flailing limbs.

It’s followed by five minutes of watching Johnny and Doyoung wrestle Taeyong into the backseat with both promises and a little bit of shoving. Doyoung eventually manages to get Taeyong to slide into the middle seat; he then promptly climbs to keep Taeyong from escaping, literally blocking Taeyong’s only exit with his body.

“You got him?”

Doyoung nods and Johnny leans in to clip the seatbelt over Taeyong, sighing in relief when Taeyong accepts defeat with a loud wail. He pushes his face into Doyoung’s shoulder and curls towards Doyoung, swinging his legs over Doyoung’s thighs. It’s a sight to see, but neither Johnny nor Doyoung say anything about it, simply exchanging a loaded look Jaehyun can’t be bothered to comprehend.

Johnny taps on his phone and the car comes to life, the obnoxious wing-like doors lowering on both sides, securing tonight’s party of drunks.

When Johnny turns around, Jaehyun doesn’t expect it. Anticipation, or something vaguely similar, crawls up the back of his neck, slithering its way into his throat, fanning across his cheeks. A part of him feels like he could let go and surrender to the tiredness sinking into his bones, to drop to the ground and let darkness take over, but the curve of Johnny’s lips are simply–

irresistible.

Jaehyun doesn’t know.

“C’mon,” Johnny says softly, moving slow. His touch is gentle on Jaehyun’s elbow, eyes flitting over once to where Jaehyun’s cheek is still pressed against a tattered advertisement stuck to the streetlight, “Let’s get you in the car, hm?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, regretting it when the world spins harder. He winces and caves to doubling over, wishing to just lay on the ground and be left alone, but Johnny is catching him–Johnny is always catching him, it seems–and Jaehyun is cast into a whirlwind. His fingers dig tightly into Johnny’s coat, the pinks around his knuckles stark against his skin.

Johnny clicks his tongue, “You’re freezing.”

Steadying Jaehyun with an arm, Johnny unravels the scarf around his neck, looping it around Jaehyun’s without a second thought. The objection sticks in Jaehyun’s throat, helpless at the light brushes of Johnny’s fingertips over his neck, tucking the scarf warmly into his jacket. It’s electrifying, Jaehyun thinks, surrounded again by the smell of Johnny, the familiarity of it as heartening as it is terrifying.

“There,” Johnny says, once he’s satisfied with bundling Jaehyun up. He smiles like he can’t look away and Jaehyun doesn’t want to do either, but Johnny is pulling away, “C’mon, you’ll warm up in the car–”

Jaehyun digs his heels into the ground, tugging hard. Johnny doesn’t stumble, but he does startle, eyes dropping to where Jaehyun’s latched onto him. Jaehyun doesn’t know yet what he’s doing but he doesn’t yield, insistent to have Johnny stay.

For a moment, Jaehyun thinks he’s dreaming.

Johnny’s never made a move on him. Not after their second night together, not even after wondering if Jaehyun thought there to be something more between them–there has to be, right?

Jaehyun can’t think.

“Are you okay?” Johnny is so–kind. His brows knit together, eyeing Jaehyun from head to toe, “Can you walk?”

Jaehyun doesn’t bother with an answer. He closes the distance between them to shove his face into Johnny’s chest, nose buried in Johnny’s knitted sweater. It’s immobilizing, Johnny’s warmth, Johnny’s touch, no matter how slight. Breathing deeply, he holds onto Johnny, not entirely confident of his intentions either.

When Johnny speaks, it rumbles in his chest and Jaehyun shivers.

“Jaehyun…”

They really shouldn’t have had that last round of drinks.

Under him, Johnny is rigid. It doesn’t stop Jaehyun from nosing at Johnny’s collar, body practically _thrumming_ at the idea of having Johnny under him again. He curls his fingers into Johnny’s coat, anchoring himself to Johnny, ignoring the warning bells going off in the back of his mind.

Johnny finally moves, maybe an eternity later, and Jaehyun thinks he might be pushed away–but he isn’t. Johnny only wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s shoulders, enveloping him in a tight hug that nearly forces the breath out of Jaehyun’s lungs.

It does all but quell the swell in Jaehyun’s chest, beautiful yet alarming. He remains in Johnny’s embrace, hands delving bravely under Johnny’s coat, circling his arms around Johnny’s waist. The small of Johnny’s back is warm, his torso firm and taut against Jaehyun’s, very much like Jaehyun remembers.

Johnny presses his lips against Jaehyun’s hair lightly, breathing in slow. The next thing Jaehyun registers is Johnny huddling him into the Tesla, the warmth of leather seats replacing Johnny’s arms, a loss Jaehyun can’t help but try and oppose.

“You’re drunk, Jaehyun,” Johnny says, hands a flurry to buckle Jaehyun in. He doesn’t look when Jaehyun grabs at his sleeves, “Let’s just get all of you home, okay?”

“With me?” Jaehyun mumbles, knowing full well he isn’t all that drunk to be blaming this on the alcohol. He pulls at Johnny’s coat, heart thumping heavily, anticipation a knife twisted a thousand times over, “Come home with me?”

It’s always him at the tipping point: asking, wanting, _needing._

Johnny stills for a second. Jaehyun doesn’t know if he’s considering it, but it’s too long a moment later that Johnny is moving again, pulling away from Jaehyun. His smile is small and his dimples are still deep, but he’s shaking his head when he says, “Not tonight, Jaehyun.”

The rejection stings, but it’s numbed by the sheer amount of tequila flooding Jaehyun’s veins. He lets Johnny go weakly, and the door is shut before he can catch a glimpse of Johnny’s expression. He watches Johnny go around the hood to the driver’s seat, climbing in without preamble and strapping in.

Looking over his shoulder, he assesses tonight’s party of drunks, “Everyone alright back there?”

Doyoung and Mark respond in affirmative hums; Taeyong groans into Doyoung’s shoulder.

Jaehyun keeps his eyes straight ahead, snow and gravel blurring into almost nothing when Johnny reaches over to cover Jaehyun’s hand with his own, the touch light and beckoning. It’s enough for Jaehyun to turn, meeting Johnny’s, dark and full of tenor Jaehyun doesn’t recognize.

Whatever it is, Jaehyun returns his attention to the road.

Johnny’s hand never leaves the entire way to _The Jungs Cheongdam_.

The morning after their attempted night of glorious fun was neither glorious nor fun.

Johnny had checked Doyoung and Taeyong into one of the suites on the fifty-fifth floor, at whose request, Jaehyun didn’t know. He’d then brought Mark and Jaehyun to The Valentine Suite, leaving Mark in one of the guest bedrooms and Jaehyun in his own.

Jaehyun doesn’t remember very much of Saturday morning, other than the sound of Mark throwing up in the bathroom and slipping in the tub. Mark leaves sometime in the afternoon, after he calls for a car and changes into some spare clothes Mrs. Shin had left for him; Jaehyun recalls hearing Mark bid him goodbye.

He knows he got out of bed at some point after too, because Johnny’d left a glass of water and a box of aspirin on the kitchen counter, a _Take two for your headache!_ penciled on a bright blue post-it. Jaehyun had taken it gratefully.

As much as he wishes to have forgotten his shameless, impulsive self that’d somehow broke free on Friday night, Jaehyun remembers every single second of it. He remembers the frightening swell in his chest, the blatant hunger in his gut, the undeniable desire in his heart–he remembers them all perfectly.

He spends Sunday praying to the gods of heavens and hells that Monday wipes his slate clean, what with a new week and new beginnings. It’s disappointing yet not all that surprising when Monday rolls around without blurring Jaehyun’s memories in the slightest.

“You have a call with Miss Hwang at noon and a meeting with Mr. Park at four-thirty,” Jeno is telling him, appearing out of thin air and by Jaehyun’s side the moment he steps into JHQ. “Samsung would like to send Representative Cho down to discuss next month’s promotional materials for _The Jungs Gangnam_ , shall I schedule it in as a lunch meeting?”

“Yes.” Jaehyun clears his throat, wincing a little when his head protests. The lingering effects of Friday night’s shenanigans refuse to leave him alone, “And keep me updated on Senior Kim’s meeting today with R&D. I promised Senator Ha of Haeundae I’d keep a close eye on our expansion into Busan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jaehyun moves to correct Jeno but they’re joined soon by several other employees in the lobby. Their idle chatter rescinds to nothing at Jaehyun’s presence, heads bowing in acknowledgment. Jaehyun greets them with a quiet _good morning_ , but all that returns are eyes averted and twiddling thumbs.

More than the rest of the world, the employees under the Jung Conglomerate took Jaehyun’s title as _heir_ seriously; as much as Jaehyun’d hoped his time at the company would help in chipping away the distance between him and everyone else sans Jeno, the gap between seemingly too great to close. His father, on the other hand, knew receptionists and bell boys like an old friend, every intern’s favorite kind of chocolate, the names of each guard’s children.

To be honest–

“Jaehyun.”

And it’s ridiculous, really.

The ice under his suit melts at the sound of Johnny’s voice, soft and gentle, echoing off the tension seemingly etched into the air. Johnny slows in his gait, realizing belatedly that all eyes are on him, but he doesn’t stop, gaze unwavering.

There’s no possible, probable explanation for it. There isn’t a science behind Johnny’s radiance, behind the flood of warmth that seems to wrap itself snugly around Jaehyun, behind what Jaehyun believes is some sort of charm Johnny manages to switch on and off whenever he pleased.

Either how, Jaehyun still blushes to his hairline, praying to his ancestors above that his ears aren’t bright pink for the entire world to see. The lift arrives then and Jeno moves first, stepping forward to hold the lift open. Every other soul in the lobby has apparently turned to stone; Jaehyun truly didn’t mind taking the lift with everyone else, but he knows they’d rather not, reasons unknown.

Whatever it may be, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it now. Jaehyun acts quickly, motioning for Johnny to follow with a beckoning nod, moving when Johnny does.

Jaehyun keeps his gaze leveled as the lift doors slide shut smoothly.

He lets himself take a peek when they’re past the tenth floor; Johnny stands between him and Jeno, towering over them both without much effort. His jacket is white and quilted, puffy to the point of resembling a human marshmallow. In his arms is a pastry box Jaehyun recognizes to be from Libre’s, along with a cardboard tray holding three coffees.

Sometime past the twentieth floor, Johnny breaks the silence, “Ah, right, how are your cats doing?”

Jaehyun startles, from either Johnny’s voice or the proximity between them, he doesn’t know.

“They’re doing okay,” comes Jeno’s voice.

The _oh_ moment of realization hits Jaehyun all too slow.

“And Bongsik? Is he feeling better?”

“Yes, hyung,” Jeno says.

Jaehyun blinks at the panel of buttons, _Hyung?_

“Renjun’s taking care of him right now,” Jeno goes on. Johnny nods, knowing names Jaehyun hasn’t ever heard–Bongsik? Renjun? “We’re still watching her when Seol gets too close, but they’re getting along well.”

“That’s good to hear,” and Jaehyun doesn’t even have to look to know that Johnny’s being genuine. There’s a bit of rustling, “And right, I know you don’t drink coffee–”

Jaehyun looks to see Johnny handing Jeno one of the three cups on his tray, a _Hot choc_ scribbled on the Libre’s sleeve. Jeno accepts it with a grateful smile, thanking Johnny quietly as he balances it with the slew of files in his arms. Jeno’s eyes dart to Jaehyun for a split second–Johnny doesn’t miss it.

“I didn’t forget about you.” Jaehyun is still processing words and the sight before him when Johnny plucks a drink free, “Coffee. Two sugars.”

Jaehyun’s arms miraculously work without instruction and he takes it from Johnny with a soft _thank you_. Johnny simply smiles in return, turning back to Jeno and asking yet about another name Jaehyun hasn’t heard of.

It’s surreal having Johnny in the office.

Jaehyun knows everyone’s staring, why wouldn’t they be? Their gazes track Johnny as Jeno leads them through the office on the top floor, hushed whispers erupting in their wake. They must already be thinking up stories for Johnny–a new face in the maze of Seoul’s aristocratic landscape–perhaps a replacement in Jaehyun’s stead; tall and charming, commander of an easy smile and a perfect _hello_.

Maybe they’re thinking of his relation to Jaehyun, for another soul has yet to step in Jaehyun’s office–save Jeno. Maybe they’re wondering of Jaehyun’s intentions, as Jaehyun is too, walking in-step with Johnny. Maybe they’re–

Jaehyun doesn’t want to think too much of it.

“Thank you for the drink, hyung.”

Jeno takes his leave once both Johnny and Jaehyun step into Jaehyun’s office, bowing slightly as he carefully shuts the door with a polite grin. The door clicks shut and Jaehyun realizes belatedly what a situation he’s in; having Johnny stand in the middle of his rather large office, eyes taking in the juniper green couch and rosewood desk, looking at anything but Jaehyun.

“Did you come by for something?” Jaehyun asks finally, when it appears Johnny has already cataloged every single piece of furniture in the room. He walks around his desk, restlessly shuffling the papers there, busying his hands.

It’s as if they aren’t alone in the room.

Johnny doesn’t answer him, “Nice view you’ve got here.”

Jaehyun fiddles with the fountain pen laying on his table, a Mont Blanc Meisterstück Jeno had gifted him on his last birthday. He thinks of a thousand things to say, none of them make it to his lips, “Yeah.”

“Is that Lotte World?” Johnny is standing by the windows, squinting into the distance. It’s déjà vu, having Johnny admire the skies, “I didn’t know it was across the river.”

“Yeah.”

Jaehyun swears he knows more words. He’s trying to string them together when Johnny turns from the view, gaze landing on Jaehyun. There’s a question there, in the brown of his eyes and the slight curve of his lips. He waits a moment, then steps away from the windows.

“I should probably go.”

Jaehyun’s heart, as traitorous as organs go, skips a beat, “What?”

“I came by to see if you were recovering alright,” Johnny says. He tucks his hands in his pockets, smiling small, “You were pretty drunk on Friday. Thought you might need some breakfast.”

“Yes,” Jaehyun nods. He eyes the box of bagels, “To being drunk, I mean. And thank you. For breakfast.”

Johnny grins, “It’s no problem.”

And it feels normal, almost. Jaehyun tries to push that sliver of uneasiness down, rounding his desk to where Johnny stands on a white shag rug. He grips the pen a little tighter in his clammy hands, “And thank you for taking care of us on Friday.”

“Mm,” Johnny looks to his shoes.

Jaehyun breathes deeply, and that same familiarity hits him harder than Saturday’s hangover. It swirls and lingers in Jaehyun’s lungs, refusing to let him take another breath lest it disappears entirely.

“Friday,” Johnny says, lighter than a feather. In his jacket, Jaehyun sees his hands close into fists, “You drank quite a bit on Friday.”

Jaehyun feels a little lightheaded. He nods.

“Do you remember anything?”

Jaehyun wishes he didn’t. He wishes he didn’t remember Johnny’s hands ever so gentle on his waist, holding him dear, or the scalding burn that canvassed his neck and shoulders at every breath, or the sting in his chest when Johnny left for home despite Jaehyun’s brazen requests. His skin goes tight at the memory of it.

“Yes,” he answers finally. He finds that he can’t look Johnny in the eye, in the light. “I remember.”

“What do you remember?”

It’s a breath when he admits, “Everything.”

And Johnny’s hands are free, calculating every inch they move towards Jaehyun’s, the tips of his fingers enough to stun Jaehyun into dropping the pen he’d so tightly held. Neither of them bother to look, gazes so tightly wound together, tension almost palpable.

Jaehyun hears caution fly out the air vents.

“You asked me to take you home,” Johnny whispers. Even now, he’s still so gentle with Jaehyun, so cautious with every blink, “You wanted me to.”

Jaehyun doesn’t want to think, “Johnny–”

“You wanted and I don’t know–” Johnny pushes, not enough for Jaehyun to run. Not yet. He holds onto Jaehyun’s wrists, “Jaehyun.”

It’s the way his name sounds on Johnny’s lips.

“Are you upset?”

Jaehyun grounds himself to Johnny’s touch, “No.”

Johnny stares like it’s the first he’s seen Jaehyun. His thumb presses into Jaehyun’s palm and it has Jaehyun shivering, “I’m not either.”

Jaehyun lets his gaze drop.

“Does this–” Johnny’s voice is soft, “What did you mean that night? Because Jaehyun, you know I still–”

And it builds, so quick and tumultuous that Jaehyun doesn’t realize it’s crushing him, his lungs–and it’s like he can’t breathe anymore.

But Jaehyun does know.

“ _Mean_?” Jaehyun laughs the panic out of his voice, a little too loud. He doesn’t want to think about it please, he didn’t know what came over him–he doesn’t anything to change. Everything is fine the way it is now. It’s jarring almost, how the floor seems to tilt with every passing second,

“I didn’t mean anything–it’s just sex, Johnny.”

He looks up to see the change in Johnny’s eyes with his very own, watching Johnny be torn apart in that same second he’s collecting himself. Jaehyun doesn’t know what to do, frozen to the very last nerve.

For a moment, Johnny’s touch is all that matters.

And then it’s gone.

Johnny takes a step back, hands returning to their place in his pockets. He stands, rigid with his shoulders squared and his jaw tight, taller than Jaehyun knows him to be.

“I should go,” Johnny says again. He glances out the window, “I think you’ve recovered well enough from Friday.”

Jaehyun knows as much as he doesn’t.

“I’d better get going,” Johnny says. There’s more Jaehyun has yet to unpack, “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You’re going?” Jaehyun asks, just as Johnny makes it to the door, “Now?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Johnny doesn’t sound unapologetic; he just sounds… impassive. He doesn’t bother turning around when he says, “I’ve a couple of meetings today. For the gallery.”

“Oh.”

Jaehyun wants to explain that he didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like it was _just_ sex–he just can’t yet understand it as anything else. There hasn’t been a time where he’s had to think of sex as something more; it’s always been just sex.

Anything more is terrifying.

But this is Johnny.

This is Johnny who had Jaehyun stumbling through the crowd the first time they’d locked eyes, Johnny whose touch has never felt unfamiliar, Johnny who’s been bringing him across the city; tucked away in their own little world for an hour or two, over freshly fried dumplings or homemade linguine. This is Johnny, this is uncharted territory Jaehyun doesn’t know how to navigate.

He wants to grab Johnny’s hand, he does. He wants to know what Johnny does outside of the lunches and dinners and drives they have, he wants to hear about Johnny’s day when they’re lounging in bed on a Tuesday evening, he wants to have bacon and eggs and whatever Johnny whips up for breakfast, he wants Johnny to know that he’s got Jaehyun’s heart leaping off cliffs every time Johnny so much as breathes in his direction.

He wants to let himself have this.

“Dinner,” Jaehyun blurts out. He needs some time to think, “If you’re free tonight, maybe we could–”

“I’m sorry,” and Johnny sounds so far away now. He’s not three feet from Jaehyun but it’s as if he’s already left the building, “I’ve got my hands full with the gallery so… I’ll be busy.”

Jaehyun watches it slip between his fingers, “Johnny, wait–”

Johnny pulls the door open and there’s nothing left to be said now. He’s already got a foot out the door, all too ready to leave. Outside, Jeno sits behind his desk and within earshot,

“Goodbye, Jaehyun.”


	8. interlude iii

**Jung Jaehyun** [21:43:51] Hey, Johnny

**Jung Jaehyun** [21:44:12] Haven’t heard from you in a while…

**Jung Jaehyun** [21:48:02] I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner together sometime?

To Jaehyun’s knowledge, Johnny’s disappears.

Messages are left unread and calls are ignored; it’s as if he’d never existed in the first place.

But Johnny did.

Johnny was always around, always a phone call away with his soothing voice that never failed to ease Jaehyun’s nerves before a large board meeting, a text away with happy news on finding a really good ice cream parlor close by known for Jaehyun’s favorite flavor of ice cream. Johnny was ever-present in Jaehyun’s life, so seamlessly integrated into Jaehyun’s everyday decisions and motivations.

Now, he simply–isn’t.

And it’s all Jaehyun’s fault.

Jaehyun doesn’t know if he’s ever tasted rejection as bitter as this.

“Did something happen?”

Jaehyun looks up only when Taeyong waves a hand through his line of sight, “Huh?”

“You haven’t stopped frowning since I got here,” Taeyong doesn’t beat around the bush. Never does. He sits on the edge of the couch, hand on Jaehyun’s knee, “Talk to me.”

Jaehyun opens his mouth, thinks to tell Taeyong of the past months with Johnny, thinks to have Taeyong unravel the tangled thoughts that’ve housed themselves comfortably in his mind, thinks that maybe–

Taeyong isn’t the one he wants to talk to anymore.

Never did Jaehyun think that a day like this would come.

“Jaehyun?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, brushing brown eyes and tiny giggles from his mind. He turns to Taeyong, who quite fairly watches Jaehyun as if the younger were mad, “I was just thinking. About work stuff.”

“C’mon,” Taeyong clicks his tongue. He grabs Jaehyun’s hands with both of his own, and it’s only then does Jaehyun notice a gold band around Taeyong’s pointer finger, one he hasn’t seen in a long time, “It’s been a week since I last saw you and you already look like you’ve been put through the wringer twice.”

That is true–even Jeno’s noticed. The days pass too slowly without Johnny’s texts and calls, and Jaehyun finds himself sneaking out of the office in hopes of saving the last few shreds of his sanity. Even without his impending inheritance, things at the Jung Conglomerate moved quickly–lands bought and buildings built almost every other week, the rapid expansion of their investment and control piling high by Jaehyun’s desk.

More than once has Jeno left a couple of those red ginseng extract sachets by Jaehyun’s desk, knowing him to be oftentimes moments away from walking out of JHQ and never looking back.

Though.

He’d spoken to his mother about his eventual succession as President. With Johnny’s words in the back of his mind, he’d brought it up over air-flown filet mignon and a smoky Pinot Noir.

“Darling,” she sighs. Jaehyun’s hands are clammy over their silverware, tense even when she reaches over to lay a hand over Jaehyun’s wrist, “You know we only want the best for you.”

Her eyes are soft and kind, and it takes Jaehyun a moment to understand its familiarity.

It’s the same look she’d given Jaehyun when he’d gone to her, a murmured request to have his piano lessons be halted; that he truly didn’t enjoy them as much as she did, that he would still play for her whenever she wanted, but he’d rather if he didn’t face Madam Lee every Sunday.

It’s the same look she’d given Jaehyun when he’d won that tennis competition Coach Chang insisted he signed up for, and she’d known–of course, she would know that Jaehyun did it for her, despite hating every second of the lonely matches, despite knowing he’d rather be out in the fields with Taeyong and Taejin. She’d beamed with joy, and it was the last time Jaehyun’d ever touched a tennis racquet.

“Don’t worry about your father,” she says, shunning his worries away with a dismissive wave. “You know how he can get. I’ll handle him.”

Jaehyun hooks his ankles together, “What if he disagrees?”

“He won’t.” She says it with confidence Jaehyun can’t seem to find for himself. She cuts her steak, “He’s very proud of you. He just doesn’t say it.”

It’s dark brown eyes and dulcet tones that has Jaehyun asking, “And are you?” She looks up, a thin brow arched, “Proud?”

He’s never really talked about this and to do so is–quite plainly–awkward.

“You’re my son,” she says, as if Jaehyun were daft for wondering. There’s not a color of pretense or exaggeration in her voice, “That’s enough to be proud of, Jaehyun. You alone are more than enough.”

Jaehyun hadn’t realized that were possible.

Now, Taeyong asks, “Is it work?”

Jaehyun evades with, “Isn’t that your engagement ring?”

And after a heavy moment,

“It is,” Taeyong says, tipping his chin up in defiance. He watches Jaehyun, knowing the panic soon to come, “I haven’t told mother yet.”

But the panic doesn’t come. There’s no rise in Jaehyun’s chest that tightens at the thought of uncertainty, no heat in his gut that churns at the thought of the future, there’s no blaring toll of alarms going off in the back of his mind. There’s no ache at the thought of things about to change once more, there’s nothing.

For once, there is peace.

The last Taeyong talked of an engagement to Doyoung was many moons ago.

“Congratulations, hyung.” Jaehyun tries to smile, he really does, because it isn’t like he’s _not_ happy for Taeyong–because he is. But the concerned frown that crosses Taeyong’s features tells him that he isn’t doing a good job expressing it, “I’m glad you and Doyoung hyung worked things out.”

“That’s a story for another day,” Taeyong brushes it off. He shakes Jaehyun, fingers digging into Jaehyun’s elbow, “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yes.” Jaehyun lies, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not–freaking out.” Taeyong’s concern bleeds into suspicion, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Jaehyun pushes a hand through his hair, pulling on it as if it’d help him get a better grip, “But hyung, the engagement, that’s–”

“Don’t avoid the–”

“I mean, Aunt Lee is going to be over the moon and–”

“Jaehyun–”

“Hyung. I really don’t want to talk about it,” Jaehyun grounds out. It’s not something he wants to think about, and it definitely isn’t something Taeyong should be hearing about. He’s never closed the door on Taeyong like this before. Turning away, he shrugs, “I just don’t, hyung.”

And there’s a shadow of realization that casts over Taeyong, his furrowed brows easing as his lips part in silence.

Jaehyun blinks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Taeyong says this time.


	9. under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

Outside, Seoul is covered in snow.

The daunting city looks a little kinder somehow, its sharp edges blanketed by layers of fresh snow, no longer as intimidating as Jaehyun thought it to be. Along the streets are decorations of wreaths in red and green, happy shoppers in beanies and mittens with paper bags hanging on the crook of their elbows. Peals of laughter travel up fifty-two floors, curling against the wintry air until they fade into nothing.

Jaehyun doesn’t remember the last time he’s walked the streets.

It isn’t as if his entire world’s fallen apart; it really isn’t. There’s still work to be done and meetings to be had, lunches to be taken and dinners to attend. Mrs. Shin still comes by twice a week to clean the apartment, Jeno still meets him in the lobby every morning with a cup of coffee and the day’s agenda, and Taeyong still comes by to visit whenever he can.

Jaehyun takes November as each day comes.

December is when it all goes to nothing.

Posters promoting the opening night of a highly anticipated exhibition at The Walker Gallery were hung on street lamps and slapped across building windows overnight. It felt like the Grinch came by and returned Christmas in the form of The Walker Gallery’s promotional materials, plastered over vinyl banners and taxi cab advertisements.

_From Eden_ , the flyers read, _Photo-Art Exhibition hosted at The Walker Gallery. Kim Kibum, Bae Suzy, Cha Hakyeon, Son Naeun and Kang Seungyoon._

_With Johnny Suh._

And Jaehyun had thought he could forget that the exhibition was happening. He was convinced that he wouldn’t let himself take note of when opening night was creeping up, that he wouldn’t let himself anticipate hearing from Johnny, as if the exhibition had anything to do with Jaehyun to being with. Jaehyun thought he’d be, by some stroke of god’s luck, indifferent to the fact that he was the one who’d suggested Johnny have his own work on display; he so strongly believed he’d let the night pass as if it were any other.

Johnny’s made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore and Jaehyun respects that.

It’s tonight.

Jaehyun turns away from the merry scene, exhaling heavily at the sight of his desk covered in manila folders. Ready for another long night in, he settles back against the desk chair, wondering if he should have dinner delivered tonight. It’s become a burden, if Jaehyun would allow himself to admit, thinking of what to eat. He didn’t have to think about that with Johnny around, he didn’t have to think at all.

He’s a minute away from resigning to yet another night of McDonald’s when he hears footsteps approaching his office, ones too many to belong to just Jeno. He’s about to investigate the party of shadows when the door is pushed open, revealing a face he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I told you he’d still be here.”

Yugyeom strolls into the office with a cake box in his arms, followed immediately by Seokmin and Mingyu, carrying each a champagne bottle and a bouquet of flowers. Eunwoo enters last, shutting the door behind him and turning back around with a warm smile.

For a good second and in absolute silence, Jaehyun stares at his four friends and they stare back.

They really do have impeccable timing.

“Surprise!” Seokmin cheers, shattering the silence as he steps forward, taking a frozen Jaehyun into his arms. He squeezes tightly then pulls back, “And congratulations!”

Jaehyun blinks.

“For closing that deal in Haeundae!” Yugyeom collects Jaehyun into a one-armed hug, balancing the cake box precariously in his other hand. He pats Jaehyun on the shoulder heavily, “I know we don’t usually talk shop–”

“–but it’s been ages since we last saw you,” Mingyu finishes. He holds the bouquet of fresh roses, ranging from yellow to white, filled with baby’s breaths and statice, “We didn’t even see you at Jackson’s party!”

Jaehyun vaguely remembers receiving an invite to the Papillon a week ago. It didn’t even take him a second to decline the invitation, refusing to be anywhere close to where he’d been months ago.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun accepts the bouquet and the champagne from Seokmin, “Work’s been–keeping me busy.”

“Oh, don’t try that with us,” Yugyeom snorts, placing the cake box down atop of some very important documents on Jaehyun’s desk. He stretches his arms over his head and waggles his brows, “We haven’t seen you in _weeks_.”

_Ah._

“And there really could only be a single reason for that,” Seokmin chimes in.

_No._

“Yeah, Jae,” Mingyu hums, falling heavily onto the juniper green couch and letting his legs hang over the sides, “We’ve been friends since, what? Since all of us were in diapers, Jung. Did you forget we existed?”

Jaehyun sidesteps Yugyeom and Seokmin, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You went off the radar completely!” Yugyeom whines, hopping over to join Mingyu on the couch. He holds onto Mingyu’s arm and bats his lashes, “Didn’t you miss us?”

Seokmin snickers, “I think he's been preoccupied with something else, Gyeom.”

“Something?” Mingyu cackles, “More like some _one._ ”

“Give him a break,” Eunwoo says, speaking for the first time since they’d traipsed in. He’s by Jaehyun’s side in two steps, taking the Moët & Chandon; he holds onto it while Jaehyun fumbles stuffing the bouquet in a crystal vase he’d picked out of the vitrine, “And you’re one to talk, Kim Mingyu–as if you didn’t go missing for five months when you first started dating Wonwoo hyung.”

Jaehyun can’t help but grin when he hears Mingyu sputter, already on a speech of how he didn’t actually abandon their friend group _entirely_ the year he met Wonwoo (when in fact he did). Seokmin helpfully points out that Yugyeom too left midway their vacation in France, flying back to Seoul after two days of bawling his eyes out over macaroon and baguettes; he’d flown back after much persuasion from the rest of them, to Seoul where he’d left things rocky with Jinyoung.

That’s all it takes for the three of them to descend into a full-blown squabble, most of which translates to gibberish by the time it gets to Jaehyun’s ears.

“Ignore them,” Eunwoo tells him, holding the champagne out for Jaehyun to take, “We just missed having you around, that’s all.”

Jaehyun places the bottle by the liquor cabinet, alongside the rest of the unopened wine and spirits he’s yet to taste. Turning, he offers a small smile, to which Eunwoo returns.

Eunwoo, out of the rest, has always been a tad bit quieter, a little more on Jaehyun’s wavelength than the others were. Not that they were set apart from the rest; it was more like they’d both skip out whenever one of the three would suggest doing something ridiculous, like swim in the Fountains of Bellagio. Eunwoo managed to talk them out of it with a promise of hot wings, and Jaehyun’d held Yugyeom back from jumping right into the manmade lake, dragging him by the arm back to Caesars.

Jaehyun doesn’t know what has him admitting to Eunwoo, “There was someone.”

And if Eunwoo were surprised, he hides it perfectly. His gaze flickers over to the chaos over juniper green, then back at Jaehyun, “Was?”

“Things didn’t–work out.”

Jaehyun looks to the ceiling, incredulous that he’s even thinking about talking about Johnny. There’s nothing to talk about, not anymore. Not when Jaehyun’d ruin things with his own words, not when he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly what it’d take to push Johnny away again. It would be fine if he could fool himself into thinking he had no idea what his words would do, but he _knew_.

From the start, he knew.

Jaehyun knew Johnny held some sort of affection for him. From the little stares across lunch to the twinkle in his eyes whenever Jaehyun laughed at one of his terrible jokes, Johnny didn’t hide the warm feelings Jaehyun did his most to snub. He never pushed himself onto Jaehyun, loyal to his word of remaining friends–but Jaehyun knew.

He knew and chose to ignore it, thinking it would be best if they just–played the line a little more. Thinking that Johnny would realize that all they had was just one night together. And a second. And many days together after that–but that couldn’t–wouldn’t possibly be enough. He couldn’t by any means be what Johnny thought him to be.

What did Johnny think him to be?

“Oh,” Eunwoo whispers. He reaches for Jaehyun’s arm, comforting him with a squeeze, “Do you–want to talk about it?”

“No, I–” Jaehyun exhales sharply, irritated instantly by the wave of heat rolling through him. It’s been some time since he’s let himself think, and now that he has–the pain in his chest rises. He takes a deep breath, “I just got reminded of him, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Eunwoo chides. He watches Jaehyun with furrowed brows, his actor-eyes wide with concern, “Did something happen today?”

Jaehyun doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but keeping it in with every passing second makes him a step closer to detonating, “No, I just–I just thought he’d call.”

To deny it would be childish.

Jaehyun had watched his phone since the crack of dawn, hoping for Johnny to send a text with a belated invitation to the exhibition. He’d paced and paced, believing that there could be something left between them, despite his spirited attempts to push Johnny away. He’d thought that maybe–just maybe–Johnny would care again, even if Jaehyun didn’t deserve it.

He’d thought maybe Johnny would want him there tonight.

Evidently, Johnny did not.

Eunwoo’s expression is immediately sympathetic; there are worse things in the world, of course, but expecting to hear from someone who’s supposed to mean nothing to you is truly–an unpleasant feeling. He pulls Jaehyun into a tight hug, saying nothing.

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun says, mostly to himself. Eunwoo leans away, doubtful, “No, really–I’m fine.”

“We’re here for you, you know?” Eunwoo nods, “If you’re up for it, I know the rest wouldn’t say no to a night out to get your mind off him.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, “It’s okay, it’s just–” He wonders when did making words work get so difficult, “I do actually have a lot of work so I can’t be thinking about him–”

“Whoa, whoa!” Yugyeom materializes to throw an arm over Jaehyun’s shoulders, grinning madly, “Can’t be thinking about who now?”

“Oh ho ho,” Seokmin skips over, fitting himself into the conversation, “Who’re we talking about?”

“Guys…” Eunwoo warns, but it’s pointless because Mingyu is here now too, completing their circle of five and Jaehyun knows there’s no way he can get himself safely out of this.

_Whatever_ , Jaehyun thinks. _It’s not as if any of them could do anything about it anyway._

They end up opening the bottle of Moët.

Over glasses of champagne, Jaehyun mumbles on about Johnny–about that first night he’d disappeared at the Papillon, about their following days, about their inevitable end. He sighs about the exhibition tonight, about how he’d thought of it to be an invisible deadline of some sort; that Johnny would finally call him back.

But there was nothing.

No call. No text. No invite.

He leaves out the details, knowing its best to be scant respecting specifics, finally settling back against his office chair to let his friends stew in what is the first time he’s ever talked romance woes.

Plainly because–there’s never been anyone to talk about.

There’s never been anyone that takes up as much of Jaehyun’s thoughts as Johnny does, there’s never been anyone that mattered to the point of him even considering the idea of _feelings_. There’s never been anyone else, period. And now that there is, Jaehyun knows from the bewildered looks his best friends are trading that they haven’t the slightest idea of what to say either.

Mingyu and Seokmin are downing their fourth glass of champagne, Eunwoo’s still nursing his second, and Yugyeom’s left his aside and forgotten, hands busy with his phone instead.

“Well, what if he’s just taking some time to think about things?” Mingyu proposes, now pacing the length of Jaehyun’s office. He waves his hands around, “You know, like he hasn’t made a _decision_ decision yet?”

“But it’s been weeks,” Seokmin counters. He gets off the couch to pour himself another glass of champagne, “He couldn’t possibly be taking this long to think things over, could he?”

“He could.” Eunwoo moves to lean his weight against the fumed-oak bookcase and folds his arms across his chest, “Maybe he just needs some time to think about it.”

“Time?” Seokmin looks at Eunwoo, then at Jaehyun, “Did he say he needed time?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. On any other day, he’d rather scale the Himalayas than sit in his office while his non-existent relationship is laid out on the table for his best friends to dissect. Tonight, unfortunately, is time for him to come to terms with the apparent truth.

“Do you think he’s given up then?”

Jaehyun doesn’t have the time to let his heart clench at the words because Yugyeom is jumping to his feet, rushing to shrug his coat on. He’s muttering under his breath, scooping everyone’s jackets in a swift motion and handing them out, _hurry hurry hurry._

“What the–” Mingyu puts on his coat anyway, confused yet compliant, “What’s going on?”

Yugyeom rushes over to yank Jaehyun out of his seat, “I got us on the list.”

Seokmin tucks the champagne bottle under his arm, “What list?”

“The guest list,” Yugyeom snatches Jaehyun’s jacket off its hanger, pushing Jaehyun’s arms through the sleeves without a second to waste, “And apparently it’s a very, _very_ coveted list so I had to pull some strings and then some favors–”

Jaehyun doesn’t like where this is going, but he finds that he can’t fight Yugyeom, obediently tugging his woolen coat on.

“Wait, Yugyeom, slow down,” Eunwoo shakes his head, “What guest list?”

“The guest list to The Walker Gallery,” Yugyeom beams. He zips Jaehyun’s jacket up to the latter’s chin, patting Jaehyun’s shoulder twice, “You know we’ve always got your back.”

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

“Didn’t you say he’s been avoiding you?” Yugyeom wants to know. He holds on to Jaehyun by the crook of his elbow, refusing to let Jaehyun roll out of their car going sixty miles an hour, “We’ll just show up like we’ve been invited–which now we have, you’re welcome–and you’ll have your answers.”

“This sounds right out of a TV show,” Mingyu notes.

Seokmin shakes his head in admiration, “I love it.”

This is an entire plan. It’s a scheme. They’re scheming.

Jaehyun feels a little nauseous, “Answers?”

“Yes,” Yugyeom says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He doesn’t let Jaehyun’s arm go, “Don’t you want to see him again?”

Jaehyun really is going to throw up, “He doesn’t want to see me?”

“Then it’s his loss,” Mingyu snorts. He leans forward to rest his chin on Jaehyun’s seat, “We’re going to be there for you, Jung. We’ve got your back, no matter what this Jason guy does.”

Jaehyun eats the dead rat in his throat, “I really don’t want to do this.”

“We know,” Seokmin rests a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, “That’s why we’re making you do it.”

“But I–”

“If you really don’t want to do it, we won’t _make_ you,” Eunwoo decides. The trio of conspirators turn to glare at Eunwoo sitting calmly on Jaehyun’s left, their objections already on the tip of their tongues. Eunwoo ignores them, looking only at Jaehyun when he says, “But if you don’t see him tonight, when else are you going to get to see him again? Isn’t that what you’ve been thinking?”

Jaehyun hates the way Eunwoo looks at him, hates the kindness and sincerity in his eyes.

“I just–” Jaehyun looks into the review mirror, “Won’t see him again.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Jaehyun averts his eyes, loathing the silence in the car. Up ahead, Yugyeom’s personal chauffeur navigates the streets of Seoul easily, taking them smoothly towards The Walker Gallery.

“Anyway,” Yugyeom clears his throat, hugging Jaehyun’s arm a little tighter now, “I had Jinyoung call in a favor with Jaebum hyung, who’s friends with one of the artists taking part in the exhibition, Kang Seungyoon.”

“Kang Seungyoon,” Mingyu echoes from the backseat, “Didn’t we see him at Sehun’s party?”

“He’s a friend of Jongin’s,” Yugyeom affirms, “Sehun’s there too apparently.”

The car goes over a bump and Jaehyun feels his heart lurch into his throat.

“We’ll just drop by under the pretense of saying hello,” Seokmin pipes up, sensing the way Jaehyun goes stiff under his hand, “Just until he catches a glimpse of you.”

“And you know he’ll regret not calling you back, Jae.”

Mingyu is in disbelief, “This really is a scene out of a soap opera.”

The discussion of how far they should take their act of nonchalance goes on, but Jaehyun finds that he’s too full of nerves to even be listening. How did he get himself into this mess? All he remembers is Mingyu huddling him out of JHQ and Yugyeom dragging him into the Mercedes Benz–and now he’s moments away from seeing Johnny again?

Would Johnny even want to see him again?

There has to be a reason they haven’t spoken in weeks, right?

This is a mistake.

Johnny doesn’t want anything to do with Jaehyun anymore, and as much as it hurts to admit, Jaehyun knows he deserves it.

“Besides, if things go wrong,” Yugyeom beams up at Jaehyun, pulling him from his thoughts momentarily, “I’m sure the Lees have enough power in their hands to liquidate anything on 70th.”

“That’s not–” Seokmin starts, then foregoes humility, “That is true.”

Jaehyun can’t find it in him to laugh.

The Walker Gallery is filled, but not packed. It’s an elegant affair with most of its guests dressed in cocktail attire, high heels and dress shoes clicking and clacking against hardwood floors. Waiters carrying sterling silver trays serving glasses of red wine and plates of hors d’oeuvres stay close to the corners, away from the art and sculptural exhibits on display.

There are false walls vaguely mapping the exhibits like a maze. The usher hands them all a brochure each, smiling kindly as she advises to head first towards the right, then make an anti-clockwise loop that will lead them towards the exit. Yugyeom thanks her with a brilliant grin and she blushes on cue.

“Relax,” Eunwoo whispers, taking Jaehyun by the elbow. Jaehyun hadn’t realized he’d been scared stiff since they’d stepped in. The brochure in his hand is already crushed. Eunwoo guides him forward, “I told the rest we’ll leave whenever you want us to, alright?”

Jaehyun nods, though he isn’t sure if he’s really registering Eunwoo’s words. He lets himself be pulled along anyway as they trail a little behind the rest; three of whom have flawlessly removed themselves from their earlier childlike selves, now decidedly interested in arts of acrylic and cement. They stop briefly at each piece, reading the title and names off the art labels under them, shortly appreciating strokes of acrylic or lines of charcoal.

“Cabernet Sauvignon, sir?”

Jaehyun declines. He needs a clear head tonight.

Eunwoo accepts one, swirling it as they continue on the exhibition. He keeps his arm hooked with Jaehyun’s, making certain that he doesn’t just wander off, keeping him moving at a steady pace with the rest.

And Jaehyun is thankful for it, he is, because he wouldn’t know what to do if he were here alone. He didn’t even think about coming tonight, he didn’t know if he could or if he could _want_ to. There was no reason he could show up, not when Taeyong isn’t either–the preparations for the wedding is in full swing now that he and Doyoung have practically picked up where they left off four years ago.

They’re fifteen minutes in to the exhibition when Jaehyun thinks it’s time to leave.

The longer he stays, the longer he’ll have to endure his raging heart, torn into two; wishing to see Johnny and begging himself to please leave already. There isn’t much strength left in him, especially not when he’s acutely aware of the fact that his presence isn’t wanted here tonight.

It’s a minute later that Eunwoo is recognized.

“Cha Eunwoo?”

Jaehyun turns too, gaze meeting one of Seoul’s most celebrated celebrities, Kim Junmyeon. He’s slightly shorter than Jaehyun is, but charming nevertheless. His smile is worth millions and his voice millions more, moving the stock market better than Tesla does. It’s unsurprising; with unbeatable single releases, participations in almost every showstopping musical, and several roles as iconic television characters, Kim Junmyeon ruled the industry unrivalled.

He also happens to be one of Eunwoo’s prized mentors.

“Hyung,” Eunwoo greets, bowing slightly and tugging Jaehyun along with him, “It’s nice to finally see you again.” Smoothly, “This is a close friend of mine, Jung Jaehyun.”

“Ah yes, yes,” Junmyeon beams. Jaehyun takes Junmyeon’s outstretched hand and shakes it once, “We’ve met once at a charity gala, haven’t we?”

Jaehyun clears his throat silently, easily stowing away his sentiments for the night and sliding on a business-like façade that’s nothing less than a second skin.

As expected of a Jung.

“Yes, we have. It was at the Byuns’ Annual Gala,” Jaehyun recalls, “We were seated at the same table.”

“Yes, of course,” Junmyeon shakes his head, “That was quite a while ago, wasn’t it?” Jaehyun nods, and Junmyeon returns his attention to Eunwoo, patting him on the shoulder, “And I didn’t expect to run into you here, huh–what a small world!”

Eunwoo nods, “We’re here to support a friend tonight.”

They continue on with small talk for a bit; Junmyeon mentions that his husband, an avid art collector, is the only reason he’s here tonight, a breather from the red carpets and premiers they’d usually have to consider as date-nights. Eunwoo and Jaehyun nod politely, both keeping mum about their exceedingly immature reason for actually being here tonight.

“Is Yifan hyung around?” Eunwoo says, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him–I should say hello to him too.”

Jaehyun looks past Junmyeon’s shoulder as Eunwoo does and spots Wu Yifan easily. He’s excusing himself from a conversation with a lady in striking red when Junmyeon calls him over, whiskey glass in hand. Jaehyun feels his gaze linger on the lady’s silhouette, familiar but not at all recognizable. He casts his eyes over shadows of guests and waiters, delighting in art or the occasional bruschetta. Then Jaehyun sees a man standing in the middle of it all, drink in hand, the other in his pocket.

Sunlight against gray.

“Johnny,” he whispers, punched out of him in a pained breath.

And he wants to believe that it feels like the first time he’d ever seen Johnny. He wants to think that Johnny is happy to see him again, or relieved, or even just mildly interested–Jaehyun would take it. He wants to go to Johnny, like the very first time they’d met, pulled by that unspeakable attraction he’s been hellbent on denying. He wants Johnny to react–to give him something–now that they’ve finally met after weeks of bitter nothings.

Johnny blinks once. Then, twice.

He turns away, returning to his conversation with a shorter man with chestnut brown hair.

Jaehyun flinches at the sting in his chest.

Eunwoo nudges him gently, a reminder and a comforting gesture. Across the room, Jaehyun sees his friends catalogue the interaction with three pairs of hawk-like eyes, already assessing Johnny from head-to-toe. The conversation with Junmyeon and Wu Yifan pass in a daze, and it ends with them promising to give Jaehyun a call the next time they pop by _The_ _Jungs Cheongdam._

“Breathe,” Eunwoo reminds him.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, letting Eunwoo angle them towards one of the larger art installations on display. It’s a piece of mixed mediums; dried flowers and acrylic, shaped and glued to form a field of flowers, the sky painted azure on acrylic glass. The petals of daisies, peonies, and roses soon turn into blobs of pink and purple, taking Jaehyun further and further away.

“We could leave,” Eunwoo tells him. His arm is still hooked with Jaehyun’s, a reassuring weight that keeps Jaehyun from letting his soul float free, “Should we go?”

Jaehyun nods jerkily. He _should_ go; Johnny’s seen him and that is it. He doesn’t know what the others thought, thinking something–anything–would happen tonight. He doesn’t know what they expected Johnny to do, he doesn’t know why he expected it too.

“Jaehyun?”

And it’s because Jaehyun’s weak. He’s always been weak.

Eunwoo is the one who acknowledges Johnny first, casting an expression the perfect mix of surprise and confusion. He elbows Jaehyun again when the latter is reluctant to move, and Jaehyun wishes he’d never left the office.

Johnny looks as good as he’s always been, his hair curtained and gently curled, framing his eyes and nose charmingly. It’s been a while since he’s stood so _close_ ; Jaehyun desperately commits every curve and dimple into memory, knowing it very well is the last time he’ll see Johnny. He wishes it wouldn’t be, he wishes Johnny would just let him explain–or at least try to explain just even the slightest–

“It really is you,” Johnny smiles, as if he hasn’t ignored every single one of Jaehyun’s texts, as if nothing’s happened. Had nothing happen? “I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”

Jaehyun tries to smile, but it feels more like a grimace so he stops.

Johnny introduces himself to Eunwoo then, already casting Jaehyun aside, “I’m the host for tonight’s exhibition _._ I don’t think we’ve met yet tonight, have we?”

Johnny’s voice is sweeter than Jaehyun remembers, the softness of it instantly turning his insides to mush. He holds on to Eunwoo tightly, nailing his feet to the ground to keep himself from running away.

“Ah,” Eunwoo nods, like he and the others didn’t spend the last five minutes of the car ride here Googling Johnny Suh. He takes Johnny’s outstretched hand and shakes it once, firmly, “Cha Eunwoo. I’m a friend of Jaehyun’s.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Johnny says warmly. He gestures with the whiskey glass in his hand, gaze flitting briefly from Eunwoo to Jaehyun, “Anyway, it’s nice running into you tonight–”

“Hey, hi, hello, hello, _hello,_ ” Yugyeom is singing, materializing out of thin air before Johnny can properly excuse himself, sidling up to Jaehyun and skillfully slithering into the conversation, “Oh? A new friend?”

Jaehyun must’ve ruled the world with an iron fist in his past life to deserve this.

“Johnny Suh.”

Johnny shakes not only Yugyeom’s hand but also Seokmin and Mingyu’s, meeting their curious stares with a genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes so easily. There isn’t even the slightest inclination that he was irritated at the obviously terrible plan that’s been concocted tonight, and Jaehyun knows it’s plainly by virtue of Johnny’s niceness.

Johnny’s always been the nice guy, even when he shouldn’t be.

“Childhood friends,” Mingyu is saying then, catching Jaehyun from his thoughts. He hovers by Johnny’s right, milking the inch taller he has over Johnny, “We’ve been with this one for way too long now.”

“I see,” Johnny takes a sip from his drink, impassive.

“And how do you know Jaehyun?” Seokmin keeps his tone level, “University?”

“We have a mutual friend,” Johnny answers simply. He doesn’t shy from their investigation, “We met at a party a few weeks ago.”

“Ah, Sehun hyung’s party, right,” Yugyeom starts, already laughing, “So you’re the reason he disappeared that–”

“We’ll let you two catch up,” Eunwoo interjects then, truly the knight Jaehyun is thankful to have tonight. He untangles himself from Jaehyun smoothly, already collecting the trio of kids in his arms and ushering them away. To Johnny, Eunwoo smiles, “It was very nice meeting you, Johnny.”

Johnny steps away to let Eunwoo huddle the kids away, all of whom refused to relinquish their glares, “Same here.”

They leave, thankfully, without making too much of a racket. Yugyeom waves his hands in a complicated signal that Jaehyun doesn’t catch, and he doesn’t get to decipher it because Eunwoo is herding them away and out of sight.

“Sorry about them,” Jaehyun says, shifting his weight from one leg to another. The brochure in his hands is a step away from turning into plaster, “They’re just…”

“I understand,” Johnny says.

His voice is softer now that it’s just them two, or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on Jaehyun’s end. He takes a small sip, nodding to a guest who recognizes him as she passes by. Jaehyun opens his mouth to tell Johnny that he can go, really, he doesn’t have to stand around just because Jaehyun’s here tonight–there must be a hundred other better things Johnny could be doing right now.

But he finds that he can’t tell Johnny to leave. So Jaehyun settles on staring as Johnny does his best to avoid any sort of eye contact, occasionally licking his lips and clearing his throat as if he didn’t know what he was doing either.

They haven’t been this awkward since their last morning after together.

“Well, I hope you have a nice evening,” Johnny says eventually, after too long a time of silence. He stands a little straighter, “Please–let me know if any of the artworks catches your eye, some of them are available to be–”

And Jaehyun remembers all of those unread texts, those missed calls.

_No._

“Actually,” he blurts out, “I came here tonight because I wanted to talk to you.”

Johnny’s eyes widen.

“In private,” Jaehyun adds.

“I’m a little busy right now, I’m–”

Jaehyun doesn’t dare let himself back down, “It’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay,” is Johnny’s quiet reply. He finishes his drink and leaves it with a waiter, “My office is this way.”

Johnny’s office is a fairly large room near the back of the exhibition hall. The walls are painted a matte black and furnished with white and silver furniture; vinyl records hang neatly above a vintage record player by the left of the room, while the right held stacks and heaps of framed artwork. Towards the back of the room is a large sterling desk where an iMac sits, along with several mugs of stale coffee and day-old takeout boxes.

“I’m sorry it’s so messy in here.”

Johnny hurries to tidy up, scooping his files off the ivory two-seater couch and shelving them haphazardly onto one of the large bookshelves pushed up against the furthest wall. On it are Johnny’s many cameras, and on the row third from the top is a familiar camera in silver, attached to a brown strap of leather.

“Please, have a seat,” Johnny says, going around and clearing his desk pointlessly, busying his hands and keeping his gaze away.

Jaehyun remembers this feeling all too well, Johnny refusing to look at him. He strides over to where Johnny stands, far enough to keep the distance between them, close enough for Johnny’s hands to slow, eventually resting on the pile of books by the edge of his desk.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jaehyun says.

Johnny pauses. Then, “Yeah, I know. Sorry, it’s just–busy here with the gallery picking up and everything.”

“I understand.”

Johnny moves away, rounding the corner of his desk and standing behind it. Like he can’t stand being too close to Jaehyun anymore, like he’s afraid to. From his post, he finally looks up, brown eyes shining under the glass pendant lights.

Jaehyun folds his arms across his chest, trying to keep his nerves in his chest, “I found a nice place on 4th.” He pinches himself, “If you aren’t too busy–after the exhibition, I thought we could… have lunch together.”

“Sorry,” Johnny hesitates. He grips onto the back of his chair, “I’m just too busy right now.”

Jaehyun exhales the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, shaky with tears on its heels, “Oh.” His nails dig shallow graves into his suit, “Whenever–whenever you want to then.”

“Yeah, yes, of course.” Johnny has always been too nice to Jaehyun; too nice to even reject him right. He licks his lips, waving his hands aimlessly, “It’s just really busy now since we’re buying new art and negotiating and talking to the people back in Chicago, booking flights, and making sure everything’s in order for–”

“Flights?” There’s a hand around Jaehyun’s heart, clench and unclenching, wringing it bone-dry, “You’re leaving?”

_Because of me?_

Johnny falters, then frowns. There’s a flash in his eyes, like he can’t bear to do this to Jaehyun anymore. He crosses the room with an expression Jaehyun doesn’t understand, but it takes Jaehyun apart, laid bare for Johnny to do as he pleases.

Johnny’s leaving. 

Everyone leaves and Johnny is no exception.

Jaehyun should’ve known. He should’ve _known_.

“Why are you–” Johnny whispers, brows furrowing, “You always look at me like–” He stops himself. And after a moment’s reflection, “You always expect me to know–and you _look_ at me like…”

“Like what?” Jaehyun wants to know.

Johnny grits, “Like you _lo_ –”

Three knocks on the door in rapid succession.

“John? You in there?”

Jaehyun tears his eyes away from Johnny, the pressure behind his eyes too much to hold. Johnny sighs, sidestepping where Jaehyun’s rooted to the ground and striding to the door where he takes a breath before pulling it open.

It’s Seulgi, standing in yet another exquisite dress. Her black hair is a little shorter now, but it still frames her face gorgeously.

“There’s a VIP looking for you,” she tells him, not yet noticing Jaehyun. “And he’s interested in a couple of pieces you have up.”

“Okay,” Johnny runs a hand through his hair. “Okay.”

Jaehyun turns, knowing Johnny is going to have him leave. That they’re truly done now, and it hurts. He smiles sadly to let Johnny know that it’s okay–that it’s fine, and he hates that he can’t stop his lips from trembling and he doesn’t dare think what he’s really felt for Johnny all this while.

He starts for the door and Seulgi’s eyes widen when he excuses himself quietly, ready to go–

Johnny’s hand is around his wrist.

Jaehyun lets his eyes flutter shut.

Johnny is shielding him away then, “I’ll be right there, Seul.”

Seulgi nods, and leaves without another word.

The door is shut and Jaehyun breathes, lungs filled with that same floral cologne he’s dreamed of.

Johnny lets go, but he doesn’t stray, “Why did you come tonight?” With only a few inches between them, the warmth from Johnny’s chest is very plainly intoxicating, “I know you weren’t on the guestlist tonight, Jaehyun. Why did you come?”

All at once, Jaehyun gives up.

He gives up pretending to be fine if Johnny wished for tonight to be their last together. He gives up denying the fact that everything’s changed now that Johnny isn’t there. He gives up trying to tell himself that what he did was right, even when it felt like the worst decision he’d ever made–the only one he’s let himself make and he’d been so terribly wrong.

Jaehyun looks up, the sad smile refusing to go away, “Because I’ve missed you.” He knows there are tears in his eyes and Johnny sees them too. He sounds brittle, winded, “I’ve missed you, Johnny.”

“You–”

“I came here because I wanted to ask you,” Jaehyun presses his lips together and inhales through his nose, “If you’ve changed your mind about me.”

Johnny searches his face, lips parted in silence. In his eyes, that gold fleck shines.

“Because you said you liked me,” Jaehyun hears himself and he knows he’s delirious. “Or you said maybe you’d want something more. With me. And I know we agreed to be friends, I know it’s what I asked for and it’s what I said I wanted,” he backpedals until his shoulders hit the door, unable to go back on his words now, “but I thought you wanted something more.”

Johnny is holding himself still.

“But it’s okay,” Jaehyun smiles miserably, but he can’t stop, not even when a tear rolls down his cheek. Johnny’s gaze tracks it. Jaehyun inhales sharply, trying to get a grip, “If you don’t anymore, it’s okay.” He laughs, a little hysterically, a little breathlessly, “I just wanted to know, because if you–did then I–maybe I could–I could–”

“Don’t,” Johnny says, strangled and strange.

He reaches out to Jaehyun like he wants to hold him, but his hands stop short a feather’s breadth away–afraid. Jaehyun’s done a good job of ignoring Johnny’s feelings so far, of pulling him along, making mistakes he was too selfish to give up on–wanting Johnny but fearing everything else.

Jaehyun crumples, “ _Johnny_.”

“If it’s just sex to you, Jaehyun–” Johnny shakes his head, “If it’s nothing to you–”

“It’s not,” Jaehyun’s breathing turned ragged, struck with an ache he can’t escape. He takes Johnny’s hands, dry in his clammy ones, “It’s not–I didn’t mean that when I said–I was just–stupid and I didn’t know what to do and I–Johnny, I didn’t–” He closes his eyes, tries to think, tries to speak, “I know–I hurt you when I said that, and I’m sorry, Johnny. I really am.”

Johnny is watching closely when Jaehyun opens his eyes, uncertain, “And now, you want to…”

“I want to know if you still,” Jaehyun can’t breathe right, “wanted something more with me because I–”

“I’m in love with you, Jaehyun.” Johnny chews on the inside of his cheek, holding back a smile, or a frown, or maybe both, “I’ve been in love with you for a while now.”

The words ring in Jaehyun’s head like a tower clock at midnight, and he realizes–he’s relieved. He doesn’t want to run; he doesn’t want to hide. He doesn’t want Johnny to think it over, he doesn’t want Johnny to know that his own head’s a jumbled up mess–he’s just _relieved_.

Jaehyun lets go of Johnny to take him by the cheeks, giving Johnny time to back away. And when he doesn’t, Jaehyun kisses him the way he’s wanted to all along. Johnny’s hands are on his waist where they belong, grip firm enough to bring the bruises that were once there back again. He pulls Jaehyun in, kiss speaking more than words could ever.

“You missed me,” Johnny manages to whisper between kisses, smiling even as Jaehyun tugs on his hair, “You really did miss me.”

And he says it almost like he still doesn’t dare believe it, the hesitation too low a register. Jaehyun pushes until Johnny’s stumbling, a low groan in his throat when Jaehyun tries to kiss the uncertainty away.

“I can’t–” Jaehyun stammers, “Not yet, but Johnny–never have I–I know that it’s unfair and I know I’m being–but Johnny I _swear–”_

“I’ll wait,” is Johnny’s reply, soft and honey sweet even as Jaehyun struggles to find the words. He holds onto Jaehyun like he’d never let go, “I’ll wait for you, Jaehyun. No matter how long it takes, even if you wanted me to stop waiting at the end of it all. I’ll wait.”

The image of Johnny walking away has the question ripped out of Jaehyun’s throat, “You will?”

“I will.”

And if it were anyone else, Jaehyun wouldn’t have believed them. But this is Johnny, who smiles with sparkles in his dark brown eyes, the joy too tangible even for Jaehyun to deny,

“All I wanted was a chance, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s eyes burn, “Is that–enough?”

“More than you could ever imagine.”

And he kisses Johnny like it’s the first night at the Papillon, tipsy with his hands all over Johnny’s chest, the fire curling around his neck and flickering to the tips of his ears. And then again, kissing him like their second night together, over tea and a view forgotten, desperation at the forefronts of their minds. And once more, the way he wanted to at the end of lunches and dinners, when they parted ways outside JHQ, when he climbed into Johnny’s Tesla after days filled with meeting after meeting.

Jaehyun kisses Johnny to make up for all those chances he knew he wanted to, all those times he told himself he couldn’t, all those times he was too scared to, afraid of melting into nothing–but now, he fears not the sunlight when Johnny kisses him back, deeply, wholeheartedly, love a warmth Jaehyun will never let go of ever again.


	10. epilogue

“–and this is our new cat, Minji.”

The image on Jeno’s phone is a terribly zoomed-in picture of a fluffy white cat, blue eyes narrowed in disdain at having her picture taken. Nevertheless, Jeno is grinning happily at the new addition to his family, eyes sparkling as he scrolls through a myriad of Minji photos for another cute shot.

“And Bongsik is dealing with her well?” Jaehyun asks, fiddling with his tie clip. It’s been a while since he had to wear one to a meeting. “Didn’t he not do all that well with Seol?”

“He seems to like her better than Seol honestly,” Jeno says, tucking his phone away when the elevator nears the top. “But I’m pretty sure he still likes Renjun best.”

Jaehyun removes the tie clip and loosens the knot, “Don’t we all?”

“Hey,” Jeno says, unashamedly petulant. He sighs heavily, “I knew I never should have brought him to work.”

It’d been a few months ago when Jeno had agreed to continue on with the Jungs as Jaehyun’s secretary, earning more than enough to hold the fort and have Renjun pursue his art degree. To celebrate his promotion, Jaehyun bought both Jeno and Renjun dinner, and over dumplings and noodles, Jaehyun gets to know Jeno in a way he hadn’t ever thought he would.

“I’m kidding,” Jaehyun says now, clapping Jeno on the shoulder, “We all _definitely_ like him best.”

Jeno is whining when the lift doors slide open, “Hyung!”

“Yes, yes, Jeno,” Jaehyun pets Jeno on the head, like he’s been doing since the day Renjun mentioned Jeno to resemble a fluffy samoyed. “You’re the best at the Jungs, alright?”

“I wouldn’t say the best,” Jeno sniffles, shooting Jaehyun a playful grin before leading them into the office.

Jaehyun follows close behind as Jeno strides down the aisle separating rows of cubicles, occasionally greeting employees who murmur _Good evening, Mr. Jung._

Some things never change.

At the end of the hall, a large wall of frosted glass stands, separating Jaehyun’s personal office from the rest of the floor. Past the first door is a spacious waiting area with Jeno’s desk by the corner, his knickknacks neatly arranged along the wooden top.

This evening in the center stands one Kim Doyoung.

In a white t-shirt, light-washed jeans, and a black baseball cap pulled low, Doyoung could walk the streets without anyone batting an eye. He turns when Jeno says hello, and there’s a smile that could have every soul on those same streets stop short.

“Hyung,” Jaehyun checks the time on his Panerai. _6:49 PM_. “You’re early today.”

“Had some errands close by,” Doyoung explains. He thanks Jeno when the younger boy leads them both through doubled oak doors and into Jaehyun’s office, “Thought I’d save the trip down two blocks.”

As an early wedding gift, Madam Jung renovated and redecorated the largest penthouse suite at _The Jungs Seocho._ It’s their second-best performing location in central Seoul but Taeyong has always been another son to Madam Jung, insisting that gifting him and Doyoung the newly named Turtledove Suite is the least she could do. With the help of four different interior decorators and Taeyong’s own artistic character, the Turtledove Suite is undeniably theirs to call home.

“Taeyong’s running late,” Doyoung goes on, sitting heavily onto one of the two leather chairs facing Jaehyun’s desks. He swivels around, lolling his head back to watch the ceiling turn, “Things ran long at the planner’s.”

“As in,” Jaehyun sits too, picking at the knot of his tie, “the wedding planner’s?”

“Yes,” Doyoung says, sounding not too happy nor bothered about it. He swivels back around to shoot Jaehyun a lopsided smile, “Sometimes I wonder if we really should’ve eloped.”

That’d been the plan about a year ago. When things patched up strong between them and the engagement had returned to reality, Doyoung had been scheduled to leave Seoul within the month, set to film his very first TV series in Beijing. It’d taken hours to convince them both why another year of waiting wouldn’t change things, and albeit reluctantly, their wedding was eventually postponed for the following Spring.

“None of our parents would have allowed that,” Jaehyun points out. He unloops the tie and rolls it up neatly, “Aren’t things going smoothly now since you’ve got the date and venue down?”

“Those are set, yeah,” Doyoung sighs, closing his eyes. He inhales, then “But there’s also the menu and the playlist or are we getting a live band to play? And guestlists and that aunt my mother wants me to invite because apparently she’s just a really close friend of hers I’ve never met. Then there’s eggshell and ivory–both of which are honestly just beige to me at this point.”

Jaehyun listens.

“And there’s that whole thing about who’s walking down the aisle,” Doyoung shakes his head, “Who cares? Isn’t the point that we end up together? We could both walk down the aisle, or we could both just _be_ at the altar, or I don’t know–we could get married at a Denny’s, even.”

Doyoung’s never been one for theatrics, and from what Jaehyun’s heard, Taeyong doesn’t care for it much either; he’s only taken charge of the wedding knowing how much Doyoung hated to stress over every tiny detail, taking it upon himself to decide between peonies and carnations, between a 1996 Dom Perignon and the 1841 Veuve Clicquot.

A small ceremony with only their closest family and friends seemed like what they wanted most, but weddings are never often for the couple anyway. It’s for everyone in attendance, a celebration of their love, a witness to their vows, the exchange of their rings.

Doyoung’s ring catches the light, the silver band around his ring finger, resting snugly. It’s an elegant one from Cartier, their initials engraved on the inside of it, a cheesy testament they held. It’d been _their_ ring ever since Jaehyun could remember, never once seeing Taeyong without it–even during those four years apart, Jaehyun’d caught glimpses of that same Cartier ring strung through a simple chain, looped around Taeyong’s neck where he carried it closest to his heart.

“It’s not like I’m not excited to marry him,” Doyoung defends. He sighs again, looking at Jaehyun now, “You know?”

Jaehyun does know; Taeyong feels the same.

“It’ll be fun, hyung,” Jaehyun says. He offers a smile, “At least there’ll be an open bar.”

“You’ll know where to find me if I go missing that night.”

“I doubt Taeyong hyung would allow that to happen.”

Doyoung laughs, “He probably wouldn’t let me have him suffer through it alone.”

“He really wouldn’t.”

Doyoung exhales again, but there’s a smile lingering on his lips this time, as if he were placated just by the fact that Taeyong would be there by his side through it all–no matter how torturous they think it to be.

There’s a pregnant pause before Doyoung asks, “How are things?”

“Good,” Jaehyun says, mostly on reflex, because things _are_ good. He fiddles with the tie clip in his pocket, “Things at the company are good, the Haeundae expansion’s doing a lot better than we thought it would.”

Doyoung doesn’t seem at all interested in that.

So Jaehyun adds, “Things with Johnny are good too.”

Doyoung raises a brow, “Just ‘good’?” He laughs when Jaehyun narrows his eyes, “I mean, the last I spoke to Johnny–the guy seemed like he was over the moon, especially since you finally asked him to move in with you.”

Jaehyun lets his jaw drop, “He told you about that?”

“Taeyong did,” Doyoung purses his lips, “Oh, don’t look at me like that–aren’t we practically family now?”

Jaehyun pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath about secrets and privacy and _god, couples are actually the worst._ He rubs at his temples, ignoring the giggles coming from a very self-satisfied Doyoung, “It’s just–easier, having him move in.”

“Oh?” Doyoung grins, “Do, pray tell, enlighten me.”

“With the dogs,” Jaehyun says, like it’s self-explanatory, “So we won’t have to chauffeur them from his place to mine all the time.”

“You _have_ a chauffeur, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun groans, burying his head in his hands.

It’d been weeks ago when Jaehyun’d finally realized he was tired of saying goodbye to Johnny every night. He was tired of watching Johnny slip on his coat and slide on his shoes, kissing Jaehyun goodnight at the threshold to The Valentine Suite, lingering at the doorstep only to turn around and go.

Having Johnny move in with him was only natural, and Johnny’d never once pushed Jaehyun to even so much as think about it.

Within a day, The Valentine Suite was filled with Johnny.

The kitchen counter held his grandiose collection of pretentious coffee beans and packets of shrimp-flavored rice crackers he loved to snack on; the coffee table held a couple of handmade coasters Johnny’d gotten on his trip to Thailand; the television console held Johnny’s high school graduation picture from back when he was in Chicago, a charming teenager next to Jaehyun’s own awkward graduation portrait. 

Like it’s been with Johnny since the start–the change was effortless.

Doyoung doesn’t get to tease Jaehyun any longer when a racket emerges from outside the office. There are a couple of squeals and exclamations, taking both Jaehyun and Doyoung’s attention to the fuss and mess of limbs entering the office.

“Speak of the devil.”

Jaehyun is on his feet the moment the doors to his office are thrown open; two golden retrievers bound straight for Jaehyun, nearly knocking Doyoung off his chair in the process. It’s an immediate rush of joy Jaehyun feels when it’s fluffy fur under his palm, Starsky and Saint failing to contain their excitement at the sight of Jaehyun.

“Alright, alright,” Jaehyun says placatingly, going on one knee to take both the big-boned retrievers into a snug hug. He kisses them each quickly on the top of their heads, groaning when they lap at his face in return, “Okay, _okay_ guys–you’re both so–”

His words are drowned out when the dogs climb over him again, having Jaehyun resign to brushing their fur until they’re pleased.

Starsky eventually has enough of saying _hello_ to Jaehyun, trotting happily back to where Johnny stands, in conversation with Doyoung; Johnny’d always been Starsky’s favorite while Saint took a liking to Jaehyun instead.

Months ago, Jaehyun’d intended to take only Saint from the adoption center, but Starsky’d been from the same litter and it was too painful to have them go off to different families.

“I’ll take him,” Johnny had said, already carrying Starsky in his arms. Both dogs were abandoned by their previous owners, living out on the streets for a month on their own before they were taken in.

Jaehyun had laughed, thinking Johnny to be joking, but it dies in his throat when Johnny nods, holding Starsky dear. The ladies at the center swooned at this, enamored by Johnny’s resolute and unswerving decision. But Johnny had his gaze only on Jaehyun, looking at Starsky and Saint between them and grinning animatedly,

“They won’t have to be apart that way, right?”

The forms were printed and signed at once–officially tagging Starsky to the Suh name.

“Are you sure the restaurant’s dog-friendly, hyung?”

Jaehyun looks up to see Johnny nod, “I called to arrange for a table outside.” He pets Starsky lovingly, “They didn’t seem to mind much.”

Doyoung raises a brow, “Did you tell them who you were?”

Johnny promptly ignores the question.

The Walker Gallery’s made a name for itself amongst the art community, going so far as to infiltrate celebrity culture, thanks to the connections made between brunch get-togethers and networking afterparties. The name Johnny Suh rose with it too, especially amongst the younger crowd of rising artists, all of whom are vying for a chance to feature at the gallery’s monthly exhibitions.

The rise in prominence also meant Johnny getting recognized on the street for an autograph of all things, Johnny getting approached by a college student and being handed their portfolio, Johnny having to avoid any spot in town crawling with aspiring personalities.

He’s spared from Doyoung’s teasing–since he’d previously been the only one with a truly prominent persona–when the latter’s phone rings, the shine in his eyes a telltale sign that it’s Taeyong on the other end.

Jaehyun rises to stand when Johnny crosses the office, waiting for the door to shut behind Doyoung before kissing Jaehyun sweetly, a wordless _Hello_.

“I didn’t know you were bringing the dogs tonight,” Jaehyun hums, carefully avoiding stepping on any paws when Johnny hugs him by the waist, “Or did you cave when you were leaving home?”

“They looked so sad,” Johnny pouts. Starsky nudges at Johnny’s ankle; Saint pancakes on the floor. Johnny sighs, “I couldn’t just leave them at home–besides,” he brushes Jaehyun’s hair out of his eyes, “Mark called earlier to say he’s bringing his boyfriend along tonight.”

Jaehyun blinks, “Oh?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Johnny echoes. “I thought bringing the dogs along would help with things.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun nods, thumbing at the collar of Johnny’s shirt, “Very thoughtful.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” Johnny narrows his eyes when Jaehyun shrugs, but the corner of his lips lift into a smile, “Be nice tonight, alright? Mark sounded really nervous over the phone.”

“I _am_ nice,” Jaehyun says, ignoring Johnny’s reproachful look. He tucks an invisible tuft of hair behind Johnny’s ears, “Is this the boy he’s been seeing?”

Johnny leans into Jaehyun’s palm, nodding, “The barkeep.”

A vague memory of hair a sweet honey brown is all Jaehyun remembers, and the image is gone when Johnny blinks, orbs of dark brown bewitching him all over again. He’s noticed a habit of Johnny’s–now that they have a couple of months between them–and it never fails to have a surge of fuzzy warmth fill Jaehyun’s chest.

It’s the way Johnny’s pupils dilate when they look at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s heard of it before, the whole _oh, your pupils dilate when you look at the person you love!_ And it could be the trick of light or a hundred other reasons why Johnny _looks_ at him like he’s the only thing in the world, like he’s gold amongst coal, like he’s sunlight after the rain–but Jaehyun doesn’t believe it to be the sciences, and that–as simple as could be–is the difference.

“What?” Johnny’s smiling, knowing how Jaehyun’s thoughts loved to run wild.

“Nothing,” and now Jaehyun’s grinning too.

“You’re looking at me like you’ve got something to say,” Johnny accuses cheekily.

Jaehyun’s lips twist, “Do I?”

“You do.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“I know you do.”

“Hm,” Jaehyun looks to Starsky and Saint by their feet, then heavenward. Then at Johnny, carrying the weight of his affection in a single gaze that breaks Jaehyun in a snap, “I guess I do then.”

Johnny kisses him impatiently and Jaehyun only gets a breath away to chuckle and say,

“I love you, Johnny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you for reading. 
> 
> i'm honestly not sure about this work because it took me too long to complete – i've moved two continents and went through a little /indistinct screaming/, i'm afraid it affected the way my tone worked in the fic ;; 
> 
> thank you again to jiani for commissioning this – i hope you liked it. 
> 
> x
> 
> ryan


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